Not With a Bang
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: I look at the many graves around me—too many graves, too many casualties to this world. People I couldn't save, losses I'd give anything to not have to carry. Staring at the open grave before me, I recite, "Those who have crossed with direct eyes, to death's other kingdom, remember us—if at all—not as lost, violent souls, but only as the hollow men."
1. There Are No Eyes Here

**Prologue: There Are No Eyes Here**

_**~Clary~**_

I haven't been back to Alexandria in over a year. I haven't been back since Carl died. But it was time.

Maggie said it was time.

We have to do it now, she said.

It needs to be someone Rick won't expect, Jesus said.

Someone Rick trusts, Daryl said.

I'll do it, I said.

Maggie and Alden ride with me, wanting to check over Alexandria's farming and see if they need any help. At least, that's why Maggie says she's riding with me. Aaron is with us, too; but neither he nor Alden knows the real reason why Maggie and I are here. We slow our horses down as we reach Alexandria's gates, Rosita grinning from her spot at the watchpost. "Long time, no see!" Rosita calls. "What're you guys doing here?"

"Came for a visit," I answer. "Let us in?"

Rosita nods to someone inside, trading off with them on the watchpost so she can meet us inside. She closes the gate after Maggie, Aaron, Alden, and I ride in, and I slide down off of Slick to greet her with a hug. "Oh, it's good to see you," Rosita says.

"You too, Rose," I say. "Rick at his house?"

"Oh, he lives in the brownstones now," Rosita tells me. "Deanna's old place. He wants to keep a close eye on… well, you know."

I don't need to ask who she means.

I take Slick's reins, leading him down the street to the stables as Maggie, Aaron, and Alden do the same. We pass the horses off to Scott before going our separate ways. Maggie and Alden head off to find Michonne; Aaron goes to talk to Siddiq, who Enid has recently expressed an interest in studying medicine with; and I take off for Negan's cell.

It's been a while since I was in the house. The last time, I think, was when Dwight defected and came here. There's no one on guard, but that doesn't worry me. In fact, it makes it a hell of a lot easier for me. I glance over my shoulder, making sure no one's watching as I open the door to the cellar.

No one sees me. No one watches. _There are no eyes here in this valley of dying stars._

Sunlight shines on the steps as I descend into the darkness, the door closing behind me.

I haven't seen Negan since that final battle, since Rick chose to save him instead of killing him. I hear Negan sigh, calling, "Back again so soon, Rick?"

I don't answer.

Negan is mostly obscured in the shadows, but I can still see his silhouette. He slowly lifts his head at my footsteps, realizing that it isn't Rick down here with him. I quip, "You don't plan on Shawshanking this bitch, do you?"

"Well, if it isn't Little Orphan Annie," Negan returns. "All by herself, of course, now that Carl's gone."

I have to tell Negan. It's only right. He did care, after all. "He knew he was a goner, you know. That's why he did it. That's why he volunteered that night."

"I figured," Negan says. "And you volunteered to go out with him, like Bonnie and Clyde. I get it. My wife's name was Lucille."

"Which one?"

Negan looks down for a moment. "The first one. The real one. The one from before all this. She got me through life, so I named my bat after her, 'cause that bat got me through this. You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille. She died in the early days… of the things that used to kill us. I would've traded places with her when the chemo stopped helping, but she was already gone. She deserved more than what she got."

"Dyin' ain't so bad, not when you both go together," I say. "But when one gets left behind… that's the worst. That's why I wanted to go out with him, 'cause I didn't think I'd be strong enough to go on. I still don't know how I'm going on. I don't know how Maggie does it."

Negan looks at me for a moment before he says, "Your dad lost his husband, too, didn't he?"

"Don't talk about him."

"Say, where _is_ dear old daddy? And your other bitches? They normally don't leave their master's side."

"You're trying to get me riled up," I say with a small laugh. "It ain't gonna work. I _know _how you work, Negan. I've got you _all_ figured out." I clasp my hands behind my back, distracting Negan with my words so he won't notice as I unsheathe the knife I had hidden. "You think you're gonna make it out of here, that I'm gonna let you out somehow so we can get revenge on Rick."

Negan stands, stepping to the bars to face me. "I can't deny that, and I won't try to. Rick got the people you love killed. I know you want revenge. That's why you came to see me at the Sanctuary." I step closer to the walls of the cell, and Negan reaches forward, brushing my hair back. "Why don't you just do it? Let me out, and we'll work together to get the revenge we _both _want. I know you want it just as much as I do. For everyone you lost, and for sticking me in this goddamn cage. Work with me, and I'll kill Rick. Just open the door, and I'll make it right."

With one hand, I start to reach for the door. I see a smile flicker across Negan's face, falling for it. Negan meets my eyes, and I whisper, "The Widow sends her regards. Time to burn cheek to cheek, bitch."

Realization flickers in his eyes, but he's too late. I suddenly bring my knife up and slit his throat, deeper than Rick did. Negan gags on his own blood, dropping to the ground, hands clawing at his throat as his life drains out of him. I drop my knife, watching with a smirk as Negan _finally_ dies. I turn around as I feel a hand on my shoulder, a white-hot pain ripping through my stomach. I gasp, my body freezing as I lift my eyes to the face of my attacker. I breath, "Rick?"

"What have you done?" Rick questions, horrified. I look down as he pulls his hand, slick with blood, away from my stomach. A knife, red to the hilt, is in his bloodied hand. "You made me do this. You did this. Not me. This was you, not me!"

I remember those words as if it was yesterday. That's what he said to Shane when he killed him back on Hershel's farm.

Rick steps aside as I stumble away from him, pressing a hand over my stomach. I make it outside, spotting Aaron just down the street. I guess it didn't take him and Siddiq long to figure out Enid's internship. I call, "Dad? Dad, I… I think something's wrong."

"Clary?" Aaron asks, turning to look at me. When he sees the red staining my stomach, he shouts, "No! Siddiq! Get Siddiq!"

Michonne takes off for the infirmary. Aaron runs to meet me, catching me as I start to fall. He takes over pressing his hand against my stomach, holding me against him. "You're okay," he assures me, lowering me to the ground. "You're okay, sweetheart. You're okay, Clary." He looks up as he yells, "Siddiq!"

"I did it for them," I tell him. "I did it for them, I did it for them, Dad. I did this."

"Just stay with us, Clary," Aaron begs. Siddiq arrives, dropping to his knees on my other side. Aaron removes his hand as Siddiq takes over, focusing on me. "Stay with me."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, reaching up to wipe the tears from Aaron's eyes, leaving a trail of red on his cheek instead. "I'm sorry."

"Siddiq!" Aaron barks. "Save her!"

I look towards Siddiq. How many times have I wanted to kill him? And now here he is, trying to save my life. I whisper, "I'm sorry for everything." I look back to Aaron. "I love you. I'm sorry."

Siddiq never looks up, pressing a cloth that is quickly soaked through to my stomach. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to Aaron's. Siddiq gives the smallest shake of his head, but I still see it. I know what means.

I won't make it.

Here I am, dying in my father's arms because of Rick Grimes. Because of the man I once would've taken a bullet for without question, who killed his best friend and saved my life with the same thrust of a knife. Who may as well have killed my brothers, my father, and the boy I loved himself. I always should've known it would end with Rick Grimes.

* * *

They talk about seeing your life flash before your eyes when you're dying. They talk about a light at the end of a tunnel, too. They talk about seeing the people you love that have already died.

None of it's true.

It's odd, seeing your own body on the ground. It's odd, seeing yourself covered in blood and growing cold.

In the movies, ghosts are always depicted how they died. That was never true for me, not when I saw Carl. He appeared as he should, without everything this world did to him. I look down at myself, expecting to see red still staining my stomach. It's not.

I walk over to Siddiq, who sits back on his knees, eyes shining with tears. He shudders when I place my hand on his shoulder, feeling my presence but not seeing me.

I remember that night at the Hilltop when our people turned. That night we sat together on the steps of Barrington, watching the captive Saviors in their pen.

Watching so many people you care about, even people you don't even _know_, die leaves a mark on a person. Killing people leaves wounds that cannot be healed. Some people were simply unable to take all of it, all of the pain. I had thought about it time and time again, even asking Siddiq what you call someone that loses a child. He didn't have an answer for me then, only a Chinese saying. _The grey haired should not bury the black haired. _

It's a vilomah, I realized. But now I call someone that has lost a child something else entirely.

I can feel it, how Siddiq wants to do something but there's nothing that can be done now. There's nothing he can do as he watches the vilomah holding my body. Aaron weeps, clutching my limp body to his chest. "I'm so sorry," Aaron whimpers to my body. "I'm sorry, baby. I should've been there." He chokes on his tears, managing, "I'll kill whoever did this to you, baby. I'll avenge you."

"Oh, Dad," I say softly, releasing Siddiq's shoulder as I take a small step towards my father. "Daddy, look at me. It's gonna be okay. Dad! Daddy!"

He can't hear me. He can't see me. _There are no eyes here in this valley of dying stars._

A small crowd had stopped to watch, bearing witness to my death. They watch as I die, unable to do anything to help whom they consider a hero. Carl always tried to convince me that I was a hero, having saved each and every one of them in some way, at least once. I always denied it, but I can't deny that these people cared about me. From somewhere within the crowd, a woman—Michonne, I think— lets out a heartbroken scream. "No!" Maggie sobs.

The crowd parts to let her through, Maggie falling to her knees at the edge, unable to take another step.

"Aaron?" I hear Rick call, almost hesitantly. All heads turn to him as he exits the brownstone, and I see Siddiq's eyes widen at his bloodied hands. Siddiq glances down at his own bloody hands, then back to Rick's, the red knife glinting in the sun. "Aaron, I…"

"It was _you?!"_ Aaron demands.

"She killed Negan!" Rick shouts, waving the knife around as he starts down the street. He waves it frantically, just as he had waved the gun around at Alexandrians when we first came to this community. "I had no other choice!"

"This was you!" Aaron cries, his voice rising to a scream. "You did this! You killed my daughter!"

Aaron lets my body fall to the ground as he quickly gets to his feet, drawing his knife as he starts for Rick. Scott and Alden, Alden with tears in his eyes, surge forward, holding Aaron back and forcing him to drop the knife. "It won't bring her back!" Alden screams at Aaron, wrestling for the knife. "I want him dead, too! But she's gone!"

Alden manages to take possession of the knife, but they don't release him yet. Aaron still screams at Rick, blaming him for all of it. Blaming him for everything that had happened, everything that Aaron had lost.

"They're gone! I lost it all for you! You took _everything _from me!"

Rosita wipes her eyes, running forward and blocking Rick from advancing any further. She draws her gun on him, barking, "Drop the knife and get on the ground!"

Rick does as Rosita says, dropping the knife he used to kill me. He kicks it towards her, then gets on his knees before laying on the ground, hands on his head. Siddiq remains at my side, his eyes watering as he pulls out his knife. "Do it, Siddiq," I whisper. "Don't wait for me to come back. We can't risk losing more people today."

Siddiq closes my eyes with his hand, a tear rolling down his cheek as he plunges his knife into my head. He's careful to make sure the wound isn't too large, hidden away so Aaron's last image of his daughter wouldn't be obscured by two knife wounds instead of one.

"I'm so sorry," Siddiq whispers, fixing my hair around my face. "I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry."

"This wasn't on you," I say, kneeling beside him. He, too, can't hear or see me. "It's not your fault, Siddiq."

"Send riders to the other communities," Maggie orders, stifling her sobs long enough to issue orders. "They need to know what happened. Rosita, take Rick down into Negan's old cell and make sure Negan doesn't come back." Rosita pulls Rick to his feet, pulling him along to the cell. Scott and Alden release Aaron, the vilomah collapsing to the ground as he wails. Maggie steps towards him, kneeling beside him, telling him, "We'll bury her here, Aaron. I'll make sure she's taken care of."

* * *

It takes the rest of the day for the other communities to get here, arriving on winded horses. Daryl, despite being the farthest away at the Sanctuary, arrives first. I follow him as he runs to the infirmary, nearly knocking over Siddiq as he bursts inside. Daryl freezes upon seeing my body—Maggie and Rosita had come and cleaned my body up, dressing me in one of Carl's old shirts. I close my eyes, bowing my head, knowing all the pain Daryl's going through.

Daryl runs to my body, cradling it as he strings random words together but never making a coherent sentence. "Who?" Daryl demands when he can speak, tears flowing from his eyes as he looks up at Siddiq. "Who killed her?!"

"Rick," Siddiq answers. "He stabbed her because she killed Negan." The doctor looks down in shame. "She was already too far gone when I got here."

"You couldn't save her?!" Daryl shouts. "You couldn't save her?! She shoulda just killed you! You ain't worth shit! You got 'em killed for nothin'! They're _both _dead 'cause of _you!"_

"_I know!"_ Siddiq shouts back. "I know that, Daryl! What good am I when I can't save the people that I owe my own life to?!"

"Daryl!" I bark. I can't stand here and listen to him yell at Siddiq when it's not his fault. I may have hated him for a hell of a long time, believing that it was his fault that Carl's gone. But this, my death? This isn't on Siddiq, not by a long shot. "Leave him alone!"

Siddiq and Daryl freeze, both of them turning towards the corner where I stand. Daryl looks for me in the corner, but he doesn't see me. "Clary?" he whispers.

"I'm here, Daryl," I say softly, stepping closer to him. I kneel in front of him, but he's still looking for me in the corner.

He turns to Siddiq, saying, "Please tell me you heard that, too."

Siddiq nods slowly, questioning, "Clary? Are you here with us?"

"I'm here," I say. "I'm here!"

"Clary?" Daryl questions, then looks over at Siddiq. "Clary, if you're here, let us know."

"Daryl, why can't you hear me?" I question, starting to panic. "Daryl!"

_He can't even hear me. Why could he only hear me once? Would anyone hear me if I scream?_

* * *

Maggie locked Rick up in Negan's old cell, taking over for a while after I died. Michonne won't speak. I know she cared about me, but she cares about Rick, too. She won't speak either way, leaving Rosita to declare that they'll figure it out later. "We just have to get through her funeral first," Rosita had said.

They haven't decided what to do with Negan's body yet, either. They don't want to bury him within the walls, but Alden argued against burning his body. "Negan's still a person," Alden said to Maggie.

"He's a monster," she had argued.

"But he's still a person," Alden replied. "And you know what Clary always said. 'We don't burn people.'"

"'We bury 'em,'" Maggie finished. "She got that from Glenn."

Eventually, they decided they'd give Negan's body to the Sanctuary for them to decide. For now, though, they're taking care of my body. They've put me in a wooden coffin, Aaron having insisted on digging my grave himself. They now stand around it, drinking in my memory.

I rest my hand on Alden's shoulder, closing my eyes. "Alden, please," I beg. "Please, hear me! Please, see me. If there's anyone, I _know_ it's you that will."

He doesn't. He can't hear me. I'm still here, but if no one knows that I am, then what's the point? Did I die for anything? I mean, I killed Negan, but what was the cost?

"Everything," Alden says, a glass of scotch in his hand. He leans back against the post of the pavilion, staring at the wooden coffin on the table as I drop my hand. "That's what she was to so many of us. She saved so many of us. I don't know how many, but I do know that I'm still alive because of her. I think it's why I fell in love with her."

Daryl lifts his eyes, red-rimmed from crying, to stare at him. Jesus claps a hand on Alden's shoulder, and Aaron hides his face in his hands, shaking. Carol turns into Ezekiel's shoulder, and Jerry wraps a comforting arm around Enid.

I never knew Alden loved me, but I've always known he cared. We had both lost, neither of really wanting to talk about it. He never pushed; he understood. He understood more than anyone; up until my death, he was the only person I told about my hallucinations of Carl. Of course, he told Jesus because he was worried about me; and Daryl and Aaron had probably figured it out. Nonetheless, Alden was the only one I ever actually told.

"But that's not… it's not the only reason. Clary was a caring, selfless person. She went out of her way to help people that she didn't even know. She risked herself for people that wouldn't do the same. She saved people that she had every reason to leave to die. Clary was inherently good, and it's a damn shame she never believed it when I told her how… how _amazing_ she really was. There are so many other words that I could use, but… amazing is all that I can think of."

Alden blinks back tears now, but they just keep coming. He wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling.

"I said I wouldn't cry until after I finished," Alden says, getting a few laughs. A small smile forces its way onto his lips. "I could always joke around with Clary. She knew her pop culture. She always matched any reference I made, any song I sang. Oh, Clary loved it when I sang. She always asked me to sing when we were on patrol together or going on a run. I'll sing for you, Clary, one last time."

"_'Tis the last rose of summer,  
__Left blooming alone,  
__All her lovely companions  
__Are faded and gone;  
__No flower of her kindred,  
__No rosebud is nigh  
__To reflect back her blushes  
__Or give sigh for sigh._

_So soon may I follow,  
__When friendships decay,  
__And from love's shining circle  
__The gems drop away.  
__When true hearts lie wither'd  
__And fond ones are flown,  
__Oh, who would inhabit  
__This bleak world alone?"_

Alden raises his glass to the coffin. "Heaven's a better place for having you, sweet summer rose."

* * *

They buried my body next to Carl. It was Michonne's idea, the only thing she said since Rick killed me. Aaron drinks in his old house, along with Daryl and Jesus. Alden was with them for a while, and I follow him as he leaves. I know Aaron, Daryl, and Jesus will prevent each other from doing something stupid; and I can't leave Alden alone in good conscience.

I trail behind him as he walks down the street, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He leads me to the cemetery, sitting at my grave. He doesn't say much of anything; Alden and I always were comfortable in silence around each other.

"Alden," I say, facing him. "Look, Point Break, I don't know if you can hear me or not. What you've done for me, thank you. And loving me? Oh, Alden." I reach forward, brushing my fingers through his hair. Alden doesn't react, as if he doesn't feel me. "I loved you, too, Alden. Not the same way you loved me. I can't do that again, but… I did love you. You were one of my closest friends."

I lean forward, kissing the top of his head. "I'm sorry, Alden," I tell him. "I gotta go now. So… I guess this is goodbye, pretty boy."

I turn to leave, walking back down the street. Behind me, I hear him call, "Clary! Clary!"

It hits me that it's not Alden's voice. He couldn't hear me. He didn't see me. _There are no eyes here in this valley of dying stars._

"Clary!"

It's Aaron's voice.

* * *

_**~Aaron~**_

"Clary! Clary!" I rush, shaking her arm. Clary wakes with a start, trying to fight off my hands on her arms. "Clary, Clary, it's me! It's Aaron! It's Dad!" I catch her wrists, holding her still, her chest heaving. "Clary, sweetheart, it's me. It's okay!"

"Daddy?" Clary questions, eyes wide with fear as she looks up at me.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I tell her, releasing her wrists.

"Where am I? What's going on?"

"You're in the Hilltop," I tell her. "You're with me. You're safe. You were having a nightmare, but it's over now."

Clary looks down at herself, running her hands over her stomach as if feeling for a wound that's not there. She closes her eyes, panting. "Cheyenne?" I question.

Clary turns, wrapping her arms around my waist and burying her face in my shoulder. I hold her, able to feel her racing heart as she presses herself against me. "It's alright, Clary," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Whatever you were dreaming about, it wasn't real. It didn't—"

"It was Rick," Clary whimpers, her voice breaking. "It was Rick, Daddy."

I pause at that. I know Clary doesn't trust Rick anymore, and my dislike of him continues to grow every time he puts her in danger. I ask, "What'd he do?"

"He killed me," Clary sobs. "And then… and then I was a ghost, just drifting. I kept… I kept calling for people… but no one could hear me. If I screamed, it was silent. No one could see me. 'There are no eyes here in this valley of dying stars.'"

I clutch her to my chest, holding her as tightly as I can to remind myself that she's still here. Rick's all the way in Alexandria. There's no way he could hurt her with the twenty-three miles between the communities. But I can hardly blame her for being terrified of him after seeing all that he's done. Rick was once Clary's friend, but now he haunts her nightmares as her killer.

"I'll protect you," I tell Clary as she curls up in my lap. I hold her so tightly I'm sure it hurts, but Clary doesn't complain. "He won't _ever_ hurt you as long as I'm around. I swear, Clary."

"But what if it's not him?" Clary whispers. "What if it's not him that kills me?"

"Whatever comes for you, I'll be there to stop it," I promise her. "Remember what I told you? Oh, it feels like so long ago. I told you that I'd do anything for you. _Anything._ I don't care what it is. Not as long as it means your heart's still beating."


	2. Ends in Blood

**I: Ends in Blood**

_**~Clary~**_

I throw my arm across my eyes as the alarm clock continues to ring, shutting my eyes against the light streaming in through the window with a groan. The alarm is shut off, and Aaron pries my arm off of my eyes, teasing, "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

I reach beside me, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it. "Can't I have five more minutes?" I complain.

"No," Aaron replies. "'Cause if I give in once, then you'll make me give in a hundred more times, and _then _we'll be late for patrol with Jesus."

Aaron grins as I push myself up, groaning, "Alright, I'm up."

"Breakfast'll be ready in just a few," Aaron tells me before leaving my room. I throw on my clothes for the day, pausing at the dresser to look down at the pictures. One of Aaron, Eric, Daryl, and I; and the other of Carl and I when we first got to Alexandria. I pick up the one of Carl and I, running my thumb over Carl through the glass. Everyday, the hurt gets a little less, and there's some days that I don't even feel the hurt from losing him. Those are the days that I fear forgetting about Carl completely, but I know that even when the hurt fades completely, Carl will still have a piece of my heart.

"Clars, will you grab Gracie?" Aaron calls, knocking me out of my thoughts.

"Already on it!" I reply, walking into Gracie's nursery after putting the picture of Carl and I down. She's standing up in her crib, watching the Hilltop out the window. Following the end of the war, neither Aaron or I could bring ourselves to return to Alexandria for longer than the time it took us to get what remained from our house. We moved to the Hilltop instead, being one of its first new residents and building a cabin to live in within the expanding and thriving community.

Our cabin's small but not cramped, with the kitchen and living room sharing one area. There's a bathroom with a working shower, and two bedrooms. One of those bedrooms is Gracie's nursery, the other being the one that Aaron and I share. I can't sleep alone anymore, not after losing so many people. Aaron's presence keeps the nightmares at bay, and even when they cause me to wake up screaming in the middle of the night, he's there and helps me through it.

A year and a half has passed since the end of the war, a year and a half without the threat of _him_ constantly hanging over our heads. But if there's one thing that I know about that sly bastard, it's that it won't be long until the day comes where he stands above us once more.

I try not to think about that day too much.

Instead, I shake away my thoughts, putting on a bright facade for the two-year-old. I greet, "Good morning, Gracie!"

"Sissy!" Gracie chirps, turning in her crib to look at me. She holds her arms up, waiting for me to pick her up. I put her on my hip, walking out to the kitchen. She extends her arms for Aaron upon seeing him, exclaiming, "Da da!"

Aaron grins, kissing the top of her head and then my temple as I put Gracie in her highchair. "You know, Daddy, you can't just adopt every orphan with a sob story you come across," I say.

"I don't adopt every sad orphan!" Aaron objects as Jesus walks in through the front door. "Jesus, tell her!"

Jesus is caught off-guard for a second, blinking a moment before saying, "Well… he didn't adopt Enid or Henry. So Aaron technically doesn't adopt _every_ orphan."

"Yeah!" Aaron agrees, grinning triumphantly. "I didn't adopt Enid or Henry!"

"They were already adopted when you met 'em," I argue. "Don't count."

"Enid wasn't," Aaron returns.

"Alright, you know what? I'm gonna go ask her." I stand, starting out the door. "Hey, E!"

"What's up?" Enid greets me, then glances at Aaron trailing behind me, Jesus remaining with Gracie. "Everything okay?"

"When you first met Dad, were you living with Olivia already?" I question.

"Uh, yeah," Enid answers after a second. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Ha!" I exclaim, spinning on my heel to face Aaron. "I told you! She doesn't count!"

Aaron sighs, "Oh, this is gonna be a _long _day."

* * *

_**~Jesus~**_

Clary walks between Aaron and I as we make our rounds, checking each area for any walkers that may have strayed onto one of our paths. I spot two walkers up ahead, and Clary claims, "I got 'em."

She hands the walkie to me as she steps forward to take out the walkers, leaving Aaron and I alone. I glance over at him as soon as she's out of earshot, asking, "Is she okay? She seems a little… off today, I guess."

"She had another nightmare last night," Aaron explains.

"Oh. The same thing?"

He shakes his head. "No, not Negan. Rick this time."

"She dreamt Rick killed Glenn?"

"She dreamt Rick killed _her_."

"Oh, my God," I whisper. I know Clary's been scared of Negan spilling the beans about why she truly went to the Sanctuary near the end of the war, but I didn't know that it scared her enough that she's been having nightmares of Rick killing her for it.

"I don't even know why she'd dream something like that," Aaron continues, and I realize that he doesn't know what I know. "I mean, I know she's been scared of him since he dragged her after the Saviors. Maybe that's what's causing this."

"Aaron, I don't think—" I spot Clary jogging back towards us and switch gears, not wanting her to know that I know about the nightmares. I figure that if she wants me to know, she'll tell me. "—that you could possibly win this argument. Every orphan you've come across that wasn't already under someone's wing, you've adopted."

Aaron glances from me to Clary as she arrives, suddenly understanding the changed topic. "The Oceanside," he counters. "What about the orphans there?"

"The only orphan from Oceanside, truly, is Rachel, and she hates everyone _but_ the women of Oceanside. They've all adopted her. She doesn't count."

"Jesus is right, Dad," Clary agrees. "You can't possibly win this."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Oh, I've got it!" Aaron says, breaking the silence. "What about Judith? Rick killed her father, and you told me Lori died in childbirth."

"Rick adopted her," I counter. "And Jude doesn't even know about Shane being her daddy. She doesn't count."

"Jesus Christ, Judith isn't Rick's daughter?!" Jesus exclaims. "Is anyone _not_ adopted?!"

"Carl wasn't."

"Shit. Sorry."

"Mikey!" Aaron proposes, pointing towards me. "Nicholas killed himself, left him orphaned. I didn't adopt him."

"Mikey hid in one of the houses that got bombed, didn't make it out. Can't really count a kid that's dead."

"Okay, then I give up," Aaron sighs. "I guess I do adopt every sad orphan that's not dead or already adopted."

"Thank you."

"Alexandria Relay One to Patrol," comes Tara's voice over the walkie.

"We're here," Jesus replies.

"Maybe tell her to hold that thought," I say. "We got incoming. Six at twelve o'clock."

"Nah, we've got this," Jesus says with a shake of his head. "Tara, what's the message?"

"Daryl's requesting a run into the city and backup at the roost," she informs us as we march to meet the walkers. "We meet at the rally point at dawn. Pass it on. Over."

"Copy that."

Jesus clips the walkie back to his belt, then kicks the walkers down, leaving Aaron and I to kill them. I throw my knife, impaling it in the head of a walker before Jesus could knock it down. "I had that, you know," Jesus says.

"Yeah, and?" I return.

"I've been meaning to ask," Aaron interrupts. "Will you teach me sometime?"

"What, throwing knives?"

"I was actually talking to Jesus."

I turn to face him, faking offense, while Jesus tells him, "Well, I do have that kids class you could audit. You know Maggie comes. Carol's showed up a couple of times when she's in town."

"Yeah, you know," I chime in, "wax on, wax off with Mr. Miyagi there."

"Shut up," Jesus says, grabbing my knife before me and holding it above my head when I go to take it out of the walker's head. "Oh, speaking of the Kingdom. Patrol to Kingdom Relay."

* * *

We meet up about a mile outside of the city, people from each of the communities. "Your Majesty," I greet Ezekiel.

"Ah, Lady Cheyenne! It's been too long!" Ezekiel says, grinning as he reaches over to fist bump me. "How's the Hilltop?"

"Uneventful," I answer, "which is good. How's the Kingdom?"

"Prospering."

"And the cobbler?" I add with a grin.

"Well, if Jerry were here, he'd be arguing that Nabila's is the best. He wouldn't be wrong, of course. And the peaches are in season. Nabila makes the best peach cobbler around."

"Oh, I gotta visit soon," I decide. "My mouth is watering already."

"We'll make sure it's ready for you," Ezekiel promises.

"You're the best, Zeke," I say. I ride up next to Carol, telling her, "I'm digging the hat, _On Golden Pond._"

"Shut up," Carol returns, shaking her head. I chuckle, urging Slick, named for his oil-like color, up beside Alden, who rides next to Ken and Marco. They greet me with a chorus of hellos, and I reach over, ruffling Alden's hair to get his attention. "Hey, Point Break," I say. "Bet I can find more stuff than you."

"Oh, yeah, short stack?" Alden questions, tugging on my braid in retaliation. "Then I bet I can kill more walkers than you."

"You're on," I declare, accepting his challenge.

"Clary!" Jesus calls back. Aaron had put Jesus in charge of making sure I don't do anything stupid since he couldn't make it on the run.

"You're not on," I pout.

"Heads up!" Rick calls. "We're entering the city."

He and Michonne ride ahead, followed closely by Daryl, to take out any walkers in our path. I dig my heels into Slick, preparing to follow them; but Jesus stops me with a shake of his head. I huff, slowing Slick to a trot and riding alongside Jesus until we reach the museum.

We break apart, most of us heading into the museum while a few remain outside to stay with the horses and keep watch for walkers. Rick opens the museum doors just a crack, whistling to get the attention of any walker inside.

One appears, growling, and Michonne sticks her katana in its head. "We're good for now," Michonne reports in a whisper. "Sweep protocol when we get in."

Daryl and Michonne lead the way inside, everyone's eyes peeled for the dead. There's an occasional growl, silenced by one of our blades. We push on, past tents of people that once took refuge here. We enter the center of the museum, torn banners hanging from the ceiling that denominates each area.

"Y'all got your lists," Rick says. "Circle back here when you're done. Be safe."

I join Rick's group as we start off in one direction, taking the stairs down to the basement of the museum. Directly at the bottom of the stairs is a large storage area, everything covered in sheets to protect it against dust. I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, with no one really left to show these artifacts to.

We begin to make our way through the stored artifacts, and I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I step through cobwebs. I shine my flashlight on a crate covered with a canvas, warning, "Watch yourself. There's a lotta places walkers can hide in here."

We keep moving, keeping our eyes peeled as the lights sweep each corner. A few moments later, I hear a scream and growling. I whip around, counting off everyone to find who's missing. "Siddiq!" I shout, running for where I heard the screaming.

As I near the source of the screams, the growling stops, and Siddiq scrambles away from the body as spiders cover the floor. Rick stomps them as I pull Siddiq to his feet, Rick questioning, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Siddiq answers, frantically brushing spiders off of himself. I give him a hand, slapping away the arachnids. "Yeah, yeah, thanks. There were spiders. I don't like spiders."

"Spiders," I say, swatting another one off of Siddiq. "Why did it have to be spiders?"

* * *

Rick and I kick open the doors to the horticultural management office (as it was labeled on the door), knives up in preparation for any walkers. "It's clear," I announce. "No walkers... No spiders."

"Shut up," Siddiq grumbles, while Jadis chuckles. _Anne_, I have to correct myself. Since the end of the war, Jadis has started using her real name—Anne. She joined us after Morgan asked her to before he took off on his own. It was her idea to come to this part of the museum.

We each take a drawer in the office, and I glance towards Rick to see if his drawer is as full of seed packets as mine is. He grins, pulling one out. "You were right, Anne," he says.

"How'd you know we'd find seeds here?" Gabriel inquires.

"Brought my class back when I was teaching," Anne tells us. "Found out they cultivated heirloom lines for the gardens. They kept seeds on hand so they could rotate the crops."

"They made a doomsday vault without evening knowing."

"Let's take the lot," Rick says. "Then, we'll get back to the others, see if they need our help."

"This doomsday vault might've just saved us all," I say, looking at the plethora of seeds before me. "And we never would've known about it if you hadn't joined us, Anne. We owe that to you. We're grateful, and the Sanctuary will be, too." Anne nods her thanks, and I look around at the others. "Alright. Let's get to work. I don't wanna be in the city longer than we have to."

* * *

The others definitely needed our help. It's taking everyone we have, minus the handful that remained with the horses, to move the wagon down the steps and across the glass floor, which just so happens to be at risk of cracking with a group of walkers directly below it.

"As Whitesnake once said, slow and easy," I call. "Take it down slow and easy."

"It's 'take me,'" Daryl comments behind me, shrugging when I shoot him a dirty look over my shoulder.

"Hold on!" Rick calls as the wagon starts moving a little too fast. "Alright, easy." We get the front wheels onto the glass, working on moving the rest of it down. "So far, so good."

"Now we're all fucked," I mutter. "Great. Marco, you're sure you tied these tethers nice and tight, right?"

"Are you doubting me?" Marco teases.

"No, I just don't wanna die today."

"They're secure," Marco assures me. "You'll be fine."

"Don't jinx me."

"Focus," Rick hisses.

We make it off the steps, the wagon completely on the glass floor. We work our way across, the grass cracking underneath the wheels. "Oh, shit," I whisper.

"C'mon, almost there," Rick urges.

The wagon is moved off the glass and onto solid ground with no problems. I glance back towards the top of the stairs, where we have the two parts of the plow and a canoe waiting to be carried across. Maggie and Cyndie follow me across, glancing down at the walkers growling below us. We take the first part of the plow, Daryl and Rick the canoe, and Carol and Ezekiel grab the second part.

Maggie, Cyndie, and I make our way across first. I keep my eyes down, carefully avoiding the cracking glass. Here and there, though, more cracks appear and previously existing ones become larger. "Oh, boy," I comment as a crack appears under my foot.

"Clary, get off the glass," Daryl orders from where he stands on the steps, waiting for his turn with the canoe. "Now."

"Can't do that," I reply. "I got a job to do."

Maggie, Cyndie, and I safely make it off, and it's Daryl and Rick next with the canoe. "No sudden moves," Rick says. "Just keep going, nice and slow."

I untie myself, safe on solid ground, as they reach us. Carol and Ezekiel take the other part of the plow, and I feel the dread creeping up on me as the glass continues to crack even more. With every step, it comes closer to breaking. With every step, the walkers below growl, sensing the living up above.

_It's cracking too much. They're not gonna make it off._

"It's gonna go!" Rick shouts, having realized it, too.

Ezekiel lets out a shout as the glass breaks beneath his feet, dropping below. Carol was at the edge, stepping onto the tile and bringing the plow with her.

She makes it, but Ezekiel falls to the walkers.

I'm suddenly grateful for the decision to bring Marco along, as the lifelines were his idea. It's because of him that even though Ezekiel's in danger, he's not dead yet, instead dangling above the walkers like a worm on a hook.

"Ezekiel!" I shout, disregarding my own safety as I rush out to the king. I lay on the glass so as not to topple over and fall, reaching down to Ezekiel.

Behind me, I hear the panic in Daryl's voice because I'm no longer tied to a lifeline as he shouts, "Clary, get back before you fall, too!"

"I can't!" I shout in reply. "Zeke, grab my hand!"

"Ezekiel, hold on!" Carol shouts. "Rick, hurry up!"

"We're going as fast as we can!" Rick replies, and I glance over my shoulder to see everyone else working on pulling Ezekiel up by the rope that tethers him to the museum's columns. "Come on! Pull him up!"

Carol grabs a blanket to protect against the jagged glass, laying it down beside me to protect Ezekiel from being cut when we get him up.

"Ezekiel, come on!" I cry. "Keep moving! Don't let 'em grab you!"

Beside me, I hear a crossbow twang; and Daryl's bolt appears in the head of a walker that nearly bit Ezekiel.

"Come on!" Daryl barks, reaching down beside me. Ezekiel grabs my hand first, and I start to pull him up. With Carol and Daryl on the glass as well, it's starting to crack from our combined weights, so I bark, "Go! I got him!"

They get off the glass, and I pull Ezekiel to his feet. I push the king ahead of me as we run for solid ground. Just as we're on the last pane, it cracks.

Ezekiel makes it off.

My foot goes through the glass.

My stomach drops and my heart stops as I start to fall.

Ezekiel spins and grabs one of my hands, while Anne lunges forward and grabs the other. They pull me towards them, off the broken glass. While Carol rushes to Ezekiel, Daryl runs to meet me. "Are you hurt? Are you bit?" Daryl demands. "Jesus, Clary! I told you not to go out!"

"If I hadn't, Ezekiel might be dead," I return. "I'm fine, Daryl. I'm alive. And I'd like to stay that way, so let's get out of the city."

Daryl presses a quick kiss to my forehead before leaving to help get the wagon and the plow Ezekiel nearly died for out of the museum. I turn to find that Carol and Ezekiel are still kissing. "Hey, uh, guys?" I call. "I get the near-death thing, I really do, but we gotta go. Kiss later."

Carol and Ezekiel break apart, Carol nodding. They stay side-by-side as they exit the museum ahead of me, and Marco wraps me in a hug, lifting me off my feet. "Oh, jeez, Marc," I say with a bit of a laugh, but I wrap my arms around his neck nonetheless. "I'm okay, man."

"I know," he replies, releasing me. "Just double-checking."

I give him a reassuring smile as we exit the museum, quickly hooking the horses up to the plow. Alden rides over, leading my horse. I saddle up, taking the reins back. "Oh, you're hurt," Alden points out.

"Son of a bitch," I sigh, seeing the cut on my arm. "Yo, Zeke!" I turn, holding my arm up so the king can see the cut. "You owe me somethin' for my pain and sufferin' savin' your ass!"

"My deepest apologies and most sincerest thanks, Lady Cheyenne," Ezekiel replies.

"Oh, shit, Zeke, I'm just messin' with ya, man. You don't—"

"I'll bring you Nabila's peach cobbler next time we're at the Hilltop."

I immediately cut myself off at Ezekiel's offer, nodding as I say, "I will gladly accept that form of payment."

Alden snickers, following beside me as I ride over to Siddiq. I keep my reins in one hand, placing my other in Siddiq's outstretched hand. He cleans and dresses my wound from where he rides in the wagon as we ride out of the city, and I give him a nod of thanks as Alden and I return to our usual spot in the formation alongside Ken and Marco. Alden extends his hand, open palm up, as he inquires, "Can I see?"

I place my hand in his, Alden studying the bandage for longer then necessary. I look over at him, wondering what he's been staring at for so long. The cut runs along my forearm, right along the edge of the scar from my burn.

_Oh. That's what it is._

Alden runs his thumb over the scar, looking like he wants to stay something all the while knowing that it's a touchy subject. His voice is quiet as he asks, "How's your arm doing? I, um, I haven't asked for a while."

"Burn healed," I reply. "The scars from that night… not so much. And it's been over a year and a half."

"Hey, I said it before and I'll probably say it a thousand more times before I get through to you—it's okay to not be okay."

* * *

_**~Marco~**_

I reach over to Ken, hitting his arm to get his attention before pointing towards where Alden and Clary ride beside each other, Clary's hand in Alden's as he studies the bandage. I whisper, "Dude, look."

It's no secret (at least not within our trio of guys) that Alden's got a crush on Clary. He makes it painfully obvious, staring after her with a look that if we were in a cartoon, he'd have heart eyes. It goes the other way around, with Ken catching Clary's eyes lingering on Alden a few seconds too long for it to be just a glance.

I lean closer to Ken, whispering. "I can see what's happening."

"What?" he questions.

"And they don't have a clue."

"Oh!" Ken exclaims, his laughter ringing out.

"Shh!" I hiss. "They'll hear us and know we're talking about them!"

"'Hear us'?" Ken repeats. "Please, those two stare at each other like they're the only people in the world."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

We ride in silence for a mile or so before I blurt, "It wasn't instinct."

"What?" Marco questions as Ken repeats, "'Instinct'?"

I ignore them. So does Alden. We meet each other's eyes, gazes locked. For a moment, it seems as though no one else is here, just Alden and I. It feels like we're the only two people left in the world. He starts to speak, but I cut him off. "It wasn't... _just _instinct that night, Alden."

"What are you talking about?" Alden questions, his voice just above a whisper. He knows what night I'm referring to, but I've always told him that I reacted on instinct alone when I saved him from the Saviors' contaminated arrows.

"The first moment I saw you," I say, "I knew you weren't a Savior. You were one of us. I knew you'd become one of us. I didn't know if you'd make it through the night, if we're being completely honest. I didn't even know if I would. I could only hope we'd make it."

"And I did," Alden says, "because of you, Cheyenne Raleigh."

"Don't you start that shit, too," I hiss. "It's bad enough Jesus always puts me on a pedestal. Don't you do it, too."

"Why are you so against being recognized for what you do?" Alden questions. "Why do you _always_ have to argue when given credit for the people you've saved?"

"Because it only ends one way, no matter what I do. It ends in blood, Alden."

* * *

We're silent for a long stretch of the ride, up until Alden tells Ken, "Hey, Ken, Marco here thinks he wants to learn the trade. Think your dad will take on another apprentice?"

"I don't see why not," Ken says.

"I can't tell if he likes me," Marco admits.

I can't help but laugh. "Oh, come on, Marc! What's not to like about you?"

"He's just quiet," Ken assures him. "I mean, it comes across as grumpy."

"I don't think I've ever seen the guy smile," Marco adds.

"Alright, it's just… he needs to get to know you first. I think he'd appreciate the extra help 'cause Kingdom just sent in this large shipment of scrap metal to melt down. Hell, just shoeing these horses is a full time job."

"If it makes you feel any better," Alden assures Marco, "I was pretty sure he hated me, too."

"Okay, that one I'd understand," I tease.

"Oh, shut up, short stack."

I laugh. Ken looks over at me, grinning as he inquires, "You want to join, too? Get this whole group as blacksmith apprentices?"

"I think I'll stick to patrol on Slick here," I tell him, patting the horse's neck.

"Guys, he's doing it again," Marco whispers.

"Oh my god, that's the third time in two months," I say with a laugh, glancing over my shoulder to see Ezekiel holding out a ring to Carol.

"I told you not to ask me that," Carol scolds, "especially after something like this."

"I know."

"And this is not happening on a horse."

"The hell you talking about, Carol?" I call. "I thought horses were supposed to be romantic!"

Ezekiel laughs while Carol feigns offense at me interrupting her refusal. "Hey! This is a private conversation!"

"I'll leave you to it, then," I say.

"For the record, I'd say yes," Alden chimes in.

I look back at him. "You'd say yes to Ezekiel?"

"No!" Alden laughs. "I meant I'd say yes if you proposed after a near death experience."

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Alden."

"No, I—I didn't mean _you_ you! I meant in general!" Alden protests as Marco, Ken, and I laugh. "Why do I even try?"

"Oh, shit," I mutter, becoming serious as I spot Rosita up ahead with Daryl. "I'll be back, guys."

I ride up to meet them alongside Rick and Michonne, asking, "What's going on?"

"Follow us," Rosita says, turning her ATV around as Daryl does the same on his motorcycle. I let Rick and Michonne take point again, waiting for the boys to continue riding with them. Marco asks, "What'd they say?"

"Just to go with 'em," I answer. We follow Daryl and Rosita to the bridge on Route B, or rather, what's left of the bridge. I dismount from Slick, Alden following me as we approach the destruction. "What the hell?"

"Two other herds merged in Silvia," Rosita informs us. "It's even bigger now. One of them came through here, and the back end took down the bridge. Took the walkie repeater with it."

"How about Route A?" Daryl inquires. "Is that clear yet?"

"Still too close to the herd."

"We can reach Alexandria from this side, stay there till it passes," Michonne offers.

"No," Maggie objects. "Route A has taken days to clear before. I need to get home to Hershel."

"What about Route D?" I propose.

"We can take Route D," Carol says with a nod. "It's early enough in the day."

"Rosita, keep an eye on the trade road in case anyone else tries to come through," Rick orders. "Gabriel, y'all can head back to Alexandria from here. The rest of us, we'll go to the Sanctuary or Hilltop, stay the night, and head off from there. Take care. Get home safe."

* * *

_**~Maggie~**_

Route D doesn't come without its problems. The wagons get stuck in a stretch of mud, the horses struggling to get them through. Ken calls, "Maggie, I think they need a break."

"Dammit," Clary mutters.

"Maybe we should leave the supplies," I propose, looking between Clary and Rick. "We could send a group back in a day or two."

"It's risky," Michonne replies. "We've seen herds run through and destroy bigger things than this."

"We can swap out the horses," Rick decides. "Split up, take 'em out in the clearing, give 'em a rest. And the rest of us will see what we can do about the wagons."

We go with Rick's plan, about half taking the horses that were hooked up to the wagons into the clearing. The rest of us tie ropes to the wagons, pushing and pulling to try to get them through the mud.

I can hear the growling in the distance, and Michonne warns, "Rick!"

Ezekiel and I glance over our shoulders at the walkers emerging from both sides of the woods less than a quarter of a mile away. "We're almost there," Ezekiel declares. "Keep going."

"One more time," Rick urges. "One, two, three!"

We get the wagons out of the mud, Clary calling, "Alright, let's get out of here!"

"Daryl, Michonne," Rick says as he and Ezekiel start to reload the wagon.

"On it," Michonne says with a nod, the two hurrying to meet the walkers before they reach the rest of us. Marco and Ken lead two horses over, hurrying to hitch them to the wagons. Ken hitches his faster than Marco, walkers appearing from the woods around them now.

Clary runs to help them, taking out walkers. Marco slaps his horse's rear, sending her running away from the walkers before joining Clary, knowing that it's more important to stop the walkers than hitch the horses. The wagon jerks from the movement, causing the plow to fall out the back.

"Rick, we gotta go!" Clary shouts. "There's too many!"

"Go!" Rick barks. "Leave the wagon!"

We take off, Rick grabbing Ken's arm and pulling him along. "Wait!" Ken shouts, tugging himself free of Rick's grasp. "I gotta free her!"

He runs back to the horse, machete drawn to cut the horse loose. "Ken, wait!" Rick shouts.

Just as Ken cuts the horse loose, a walker grabs his arm, teeth sinking into his bicep. "No!" Clary shouts.

Terrified of the walkers, the horse rears, kicking Ken in the chest.

"Ken!" Marco shouts.

Before we can stop them, the two run to Ken's aid, Clary throwing her knife and taking out the walker that bit him. "Siddiq!" I yell. "Siddiq!"

He arrives as the rest of us run to keep the walkers off of Clary and Marco, Clary's hands pressing against the bite wound on Ken's arm. "Ken, stay with us!" Marco pleads. "They're gonna fix it. You're gonna be alright."

Siddiq, Enid, and I kneel beside them, Siddiq getting to work right away, Enid assisting him. Alden appears behind Clary and Marco, and I can see him shaking at the sight of Ken on the ground. Rick stands beside him, unsure of what to do. Ken's my focus, but I can still hear more growling. Clary must hear it, too, because she looks up.

"We got more walkers incoming!" Clary barks, shooting to her feet. Rick takes off for the walkers, followed by a handful of others. "Mags, we'll keep 'em off y'all. Alden, come on!"

"But—" Alden starts to object.

Clary's hand, red with Ken's blood, closes around Alden's. "Come on. You're no help to him here." She glances back at Ken one last time, then to Marco. "Marc, keep him calm."

Alden follows her as they run into the frey, dropping her hand and drawing his knife. Marco keeps Ken's head in his lap, brushing his hair back as he assures him that Siddiq will help, that he'll be okay. I take his left hand, and he squeezes it tight.

"Enid, get the quick clot and a tourniquet," Siddiq orders.

Ken tears his gaze away from Marco, looking up at me. He requests, "Tell my dad to let Marco take my place, okay?"

"You're gonna tell your dad yourself," Siddiq replies, unbuttoning Ken's shirt to see the damage from the horse. "Just stay awake!"

I glance down, finding a hoofprint on his chest, already purple. I grew up on a farm, and I remember seeing someone get kicked like that once. It led to the first funeral I ever went to.

"Ken, Ken," I tell him, just trying to keep him calm though I know he's a goner. "Ken, just stay awake."

"Ken, look at me," Marco tells him.

"Tell my mom and dad," Ken whispers, "I'm… I'm coming."

Ken stops breathing, just as everything else goes silent, the walkers all dead. I look up, finding everyone else watching, realizing that Ken's gone. Marco gently rests Ken's head on the ground before getting up, turning away with a sob. Both Alden and Clary step forward at the same time. Marco wraps an arm around each of them, burying his face in Alden's shoulder. Alden's lip quivers as Clary rests her head against Marco's shoulder, both looking down at Ken's body over Marco's shoulders.

"This is why, Al," Clary says, and I can see tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I understand now," Alden tells her. "You're right. It always ends this way."

"It always ends in blood."


	3. Flying Too Close

**II: Flying Too Close**

_**~Clary~**_

The group that was going to the Sanctuary split off on their route, the rest of us returning to Hilltop. Marco and Ken's horses pull the wagon, Marco and Enid riding in the back with Ken's body. Siddiq rides on the bench beside Maggie, who has the reins. Jesus and Cyndie ride alongside the wagon, Alden riding in the back. I ride point, no one able to see the tears that still fall from my eyes.

It's getting too lonely acting as the vanguard by myself, so I wipe my eyes and turn my horse. Cyndie moves aside for me to ride alongside Maggie for a moment, telling her, "I'm gonna ride with Alden for a bit, if that's okay with you, Mags."

"Of course," Maggie assures me. "Go ahead."

"Cyndie, can you take point?"

"You got it," Cyndie replies.

I give her a nod of thanks, dropping back to ride with Alden. "Everything okay?" he questions.

"Road-wise, yes," I answer. "Me, on the other hand? Not so much. It was too lonely up there. I don't really want to be alone right now."

"You know I'm here," Alden promises. "I'll always be here."

Before I can even think it through, my hand's darting for Alden's as if it has a mind of its own. I grab Alden's hand, and he turns to look at me, slightly surprised. "I'm sorry," I apologize. "I just… I need a hand to hold right now."

"It's okay," Alden tells me, lacing our fingers together. "I need one, too."

I bow my head, unable to hold back my sobs any longer. Alden tightens his hold, and when I look up, I find that he's crying, too. I hear Maggie telling Jesus something, too far away for me to make out any words. Jesus gives her a nod before he drops back, questioning, "Do you guys need us to stop?"

"No, you keep going," I tell him. "We'll catch up. If we're not back within a mile, then wait for us."

Jesus nods, relaying my message to Maggie before they continue on the road back to Hilltop. Alden and I slow our horses to a stop, watching the others disappear over the crest of a hill. I dismount first, Alden quickly following my lead, each on opposite sides of our horses.

We round our horses, and as soon as there's no obstacle between us, we both rush forward at the same time, embracing each other. Alden buries his face in my shoulder, while I stand on my tiptoes, my chin resting on his shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut, winding my fingers through his hair. I whisper, "Don't leave me, too."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

Rick does what Rick always does. He gets in front of a bunch of people and makes a speech, assuring them that everything will be okay, even if it's not. As the Saviors all applaud him, Rick looks towards me, and I gesture for him to follow me with a jerk of my head. Rick follows me up off the ground floor of the Sanctuary, up onto the catwalk above everything. He questions, "What's up?"

"I don't wanna be the one leading these people anymore," I tell him.

"Okay," Rick slowly says. "Why?"

"I don't know. Just… being here behind these walls again, it just don't feel right, man. I'm better out there. I always have been."

Rick sighs. "You kept this place together. You kept people in line here. We can't just let the Sanctuary fall after everything that's happened."

"Man, it's gonna fall anyway," I retort. "We both know that. Nothing grows here. It's a damn factory, man. Look, when Negan was around, he needed people to provide for him. It's still the same. Nothing's changed."

"No, it's different now," Rick argues. "We give what we give willingly."

"And how long's that gonna last? Most of the bridges are out after that big storm. The highway's done. We've scavenged every last drop of gas for miles. And we can't make enough corn fuel to run the cars or the trucks. Pretty soon, it's gonna be more than a day's ride from one spot to another."

"Well, it's on us to figure out how to make it work."

"Man, there ain't no us anymore. Everyone's everywhere. That small group we had back in the beginning, we could do anything. That was right. That's what I know."

"Well, you wanna come home to Alexandria, then?"

"No," I answer with a shake of my head. "I'm gonna go to Hilltop, check on Maggie and the baby. Clary and I, we've been together, side by side, for as long as I can remember. I can't keep doing this. I don't like not being around her. We're better when we're together."

"Well, you go, someone's gotta take your place. Rosita and Eugene are headed to Oceanside. Maggie's sending food but not people, and Kingdom's got its own problems rebuilding after losing its fighters. If Alexandria sends another person out, I could use the help back home. We're not together, Daryl, because things have changed."

"Thing is, you changed 'em, Rick."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"'_Tis the last rose of summer  
__Left blooming alone  
__All her lovely companions  
__Are faded and gone  
__No flower of her kindred  
__No rosebud is nigh  
__To reflect back her blushes  
__Or to give sigh for sigh_

_So soon may I follow  
__When friendships decay  
__And from love's shining circle  
__Do gems drop away  
__When true hearts lie withered  
__And fond ones are flown  
__Oh who would inhabit  
__This bleak world alone."_

Alden looks down upon finishing his song, the one that Tammy Rose and Earl requested he sing for Ken's funeral. "I'm gonna miss you, Ken," Alden says, raising his glass. "Heaven's a better place for having you. Cheers."

He takes a drink before walking over to rejoin Marco and I. I pat his shoulder before taking another drink. Jesus leans down to whisper to me, "Are you sure you're okay? You haven't drank like this since they spared Negan."

"I'll be okay," I promise Jesus. "We just gotta get through this funeral."

Gregory gets up to speak, and as much as I dislike Gregory, I don't let it show. Not in front of Tammy Rose and Earl at their only son's funeral.

"Ken was a quiet, good-hearted young man," Gregory says. "He wasn't a fighter. He tended to our animals. He shoed the horses. It's regular guys like Ken that keep a place going. He will be remembered as a son, a friend, a shining example of Hilltop's strength and fundamental decency even in the face of this terrible tragedy. Cheers, Ken. Rest in peace."

Gregory steps away from the metaphorical spotlight, passing by Jesus and I as he goes to reclaim his seat. "Gregory," Jesus says, "that was beautiful."

"Yeah," I agree, "that was… actually really good."

"Something like this really makes you think about what you have and what you've lost," Gregory replies. "And I'm just… I'm just grateful for where I am."

I glance towards Jesus once Gregory's out of earshot, whispering, "Did that seem a little… fishy to you?"

"Yeah," Jesus answers. "That was very not Gregory."

"Marco," I say. "Go make sure Tammy Rose and Earl get to their trailer alright. Alden, stick with me."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

I light a cigarette, taking a puff from it before taking it out of my mouth. I hold it up, offering it to Carol, knowing that it's her standing beside me without even having to look. She takes it, then drops it to the ground, stomping it out with her boot. "Those things'll kill you," she scolds, taking a seat next to me.

"Why aren't you in bed?" I question, looking away from the stars to face her.

"Why aren't you?" Carol returns. "We don't sleep. Ezekiel, on the other hand, sleeps like a baby. It's annoying."

"Does he snore fancy, too?" I tease.

Carol smacks my arm. "Stop it."

"I'm serious!"

Carol chuckles. "No, you're not."

"Ezekiel's alright," I admit. "He's a bit corny, but…"

"Glad I have Pookie's approval."

"Stop it."

"After what I went through with Ed, corny is really, really nice."

"No, I'm happy for you. If anybody deserves to be happy, it's you. I don't like not seeing you, though."

"Daryl?" Carol questions. "I want to take over here for a while, for you. Don't argue."

I'm taken off guard for a second. "You gonna bring Henry and the King with you?"

"I haven't told him yet," Carol admits. "He asked me to marry him."

I turn to face her. "What?"

"He keeps doing it at the worst moments. But that time… part of me just wanted to say 'yes' right then."

"Why didn't you?"

Carol sighs. "I don't know. I guess I want to help out, take my time, you know?"

"You want me to stay with you?"

"No, you don't need to. You go back to Clary, alright? I think she needs you, too."

I huff, shaking my head as I realize all this is coming from Carol overhearing my conversation with Rick. She's doing this for me, and I know she won't let me back out of leaving this place now. She's made up her mind, and Carol's stubborn as hell when she wants to be.

I wrap my arm around my best friend as she curls up beside me. I rest my head on hers as she rests her head on my shoulder. I question, "What would I do without you?"

"Beats me, Pookie."

We both laugh, and I know that no matter what happens, no matter where we are, nothing will change the fact that we will always be family.

* * *

_**~Maggie~**_

I push Hershel in his stroller throughout the Hilltop, taking him on a late night stroll before I put him to be. As I round the blacksmith stall, Gregory approaches me, inquiring, "Tough night?"

"Yeah, tough night," I admit.

"I've been there. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that. I know this hasn't been easy for you."

Gregory sighs. "You won the election fair and square, Maggie."

_Since when does he call me Maggie? He never gets my name right._

"You've been a worthy adversary," Gregory continues. "Forced me to do some soul searching."

"It's hard not knowing what your place is. I'm sure you have one if you want it." Gregory nods. "Anyway, I should get my kid to sleep."

I start to push Hershel away, but Gregory stops me. "Oh, Maggie, I meant to tell you. When we were burying Ken before, and I didn't want to say anything, not now, but… it looked like someone had defaced Glenn's grave. Maybe just some sort of accident, kids who didn't know any better. I hope it wasn't someone that was angry. Probably no big deal. You could check it out tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night," I quickly reply, then push Hershel in the direction of the cemetery. I don't know if it's fear or anger that's causing me to shake at the thought of my husband's grave being defaced, but my hands are shaking as I grip the stroller tighter. I take a shortcut in between the trailers, knowing it'll lead me out closer to Glenn's grave.

But there's no markings on it. It wasn't defaced. None of the graves were.

I turn over my shoulder, eyes widening at the hooded figure. They strike me before I can back away, sending me to the ground and knocking the stroller over. Hershel starts wailing as the assailant grabs me, pulling me back. We struggle, knocking over boards that were propped against the side of the trailer. We make a hell of a commotion, the siding creaking as he slams me back into it.

"Oh my God, Maggie!" I hear Enid cry, probably drawn by the sounds of a struggle.

It's a man that grunts when Enid grabs him, trying to pull him off of me. He spins, shoving her away and into the pile of fallen lumber. She hits the ground, still.

"Enid!" I hear Clary shout. "Alden, Cyndie, help Maggie!"

Alden and Cyndie arrive, dragging the assailant off of me while Clary scoops up Hershel, holding him to her chest. Clary kneels over Enid, drawing her knife to defend them as the masked attacker nearly breaks free from Alden and Cyndie. They get him back under control, and I step forward, unmasking him.

I guess I really shouldn't be surprised that it's Earl.

"Clary," I say. She looks up at me as she sheathes her knife, the danger having passed. "Watch Hershel for me. I've got something I gotta take care of."

I turn to walk off without waiting for an answer, knowing it won't take Clary long to figure out who's really behind this, if she hasn't already.

"Maggie!" Clary calls, and I stop, turning to look back at her. She's on her feet, lightly bouncing Hershel as his cries fade. "It ends _now._ It ends in blood. Destroy that cowardly son of a bitch."

I nod, taking off for Gregory's trailer. I barge in without even knocking, Gregory looking up from the book he reads as he says, "Margaret." He gets to his feet upon seeing the blood that runs down the side of my face thanks to Earl. "My God, Maggie. What happened?"

"What happened?" I repeat. "What happened was you tried to have me killed 'cause you're too chicken shit to do it yourself."

"Margaret, you need to sit down," Gregory tries. "You obviously have a head injury."

"You want to lead this place?" I demand. "You can't even murder someone right."

"This place? I _built_ this place! None of this would exist if it wasn't for me. You're just Rick's lackey!"

"Rick ended the war," I say. It's what we all say, though there's a select few of us that know the real truth. It was Clary that ended the war the day she asked Negan to kill Rick. The day that even the people that he trusted the most and led beside him turned on him because he kept killing and killing. "It's more than you ever did."

"And he's your friend and your mentor," Gregory returns. I'd say that he was right about one of those things, that Rick did help me learn to lead, but it was Deanna's guidance that put me where I am today. And Rick sure as hell isn't my friend, not after promising to kill Negan and then sparing him. "And you what's funny, Margeret? You can't even go back to Alexandria because you-know-who is still there."

"Do you even give a crap about all of this after all the stupid shit that you've done?" I demand. "After all the chances that you've been given?!"

"No. Because I'm still here."

He thrusts a knife forward, but I grab his hand, forcing it away from me. "They'll all know that you did this!" I tell him.

"Earl attacked you because you got his son killed!" Gregory shouts as we struggle for control of the knife. "You blamed me. You attacked me. And I defended myself!"

I shove Gregory's arm away with a grunt, prying the knife from his hand. Before he can react to being disarmed, I spin, putting the knife to his throat. He gasps, terrified that I now have all the power.

"It's over, Gregory," I growl. "You're done."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Shh, shh, I got you, you're safe," I whisper to Hershel, clutching him to me. I don't know if it's him that I'm reassuring or me. "I got you, sweetie."

"I never meant to hurt him," Earl says.

"Cyndie, take a step to your left," I order, drawing my knife. She does as I say, and I throw the knife, impaling it in the trailer next to Earl's head. He gasps, jerking away, but Alden holds him in place. "I don't give a fuck what you didn't mean to do, you sorry son of a bitch. Cyndie, take Earl down and throw him in the cells. This ain't over yet."

Cyndie nods, and Earl doesn't fight her as she escorts him to the Hilltop's cells. Alden kneels beside Enid, announcing, "She's still breathing."

"Can you carry her?" I ask. "We gotta get her to Siddiq."

Alden nods, careful as he picks her up so Enid's not further injured. She hangs limp in his arms, and as much as it terrifies me, I can still see her chest rising and falling with each breath. I pause to grab my knife out of the trailer's siding before following Alden to the infirmary, opening the door for him.

Siddiq shoots to his feet when we enter, asking, "What happened?" He catches sight of Hershel in my arms, and the color drains from his face in dread. "Where's Maggie?"

"Finishing this," I answer. "They were attacked by Earl, but Gregory set it up. Hershel's the only one that came out unscathed."

"Lay her down here," Siddiq tells Alden, gesturing to a bed. "I've got her from here."

Alden nods, gently placing Enid on the bed. "We'll wait outside," he says, then tugs me towards the door, leading me outside. "C'mon."

Alden and I sit side by side at the picnic table just outside the infirmary, looking around the Hilltop. He looks over at me as I shift Hershel in my lap, inquiring, "Do you want me to take him for a bit?"

"I don't wanna let go of him right now," I reply, wrapping an arm around him. Hershel doesn't squirm like most kids do; he always clings to me whenever I hold him. "I know he's okay, but… I just can't let go."

Alden nods in understanding. "Are you okay?"

"We almost lost Enid," I say, not directly answering, "the same day we lost Ken. And they tried to kill Maggie and Hershel." Alden wraps his arm around my shoulders, hesitant until I rest my head against his shoulder. "I don't want to lose anyone else."

"You won't."

"That's not something you can promise, pretty boy. There's always going to be something, some danger, that takes the people we love."

Alden tightens his arm around me just a bit as he murmurs, "I know. But we just have to have faith that we won't."

Together, Alden and I watch as Maggie drags Gregory down to the basement of Barrington, emerging a minute later without him. "Alden, you go on to bed," I tell him as Maggie walks in our direction. "I'm gonna wait here for Maggie."

* * *

I stand, pulling Hershel off my lap and up into my arms when the door to the infirmary opens. Maggie steps out, a bandage on her brow. "Are you okay?" I question. "How's Enid?"

"We'll be okay," she assures me. "Thank you for watching Hershel."

"Thank you for being the badass that you are and stopping Gregory's bullshit once and for all," I reply.

Maggie smiles softly. "It's not over just yet, but that can wait until tomorrow."

"Of course." I pass Hershel back to his mother, kissing his forehead and then her cheek. "Be safe, Mags."

"I'd say the same to you, but you're never careful."

I give her a grin, both of us knowing that she's right. I grab a bottle of gin on my way into Barrington, walking up the stairs and knocking on Alden's door. When he opens it, I find that he has a nearly full bottle of whiskey in his hand. "And here I thought I'd be nice and bring the booze," I say. "Can I come in?"

* * *

I watch Alden settle back against his headboard, turning the bottle in my hands, as he says, "Never have I ever killed someone to save someone I love."

"Oh, fuck you. You're just making me drink now," I retort, taking another drink. "We keep going like this, we're gonna need another bottle." Alden chuckles, and I pass the bottle to him, but he doesn't drink. "What, you've never killed people?"

"No, I've killed people. The ones that killed my brother."

"Oh, shit, sorry," I tell him, realizing that the reason he doesn't drink is because he was too late. "Uh, alright. Never have I ever dyed my hair."

"Technically I bleached it."

"Drink, jackass."

Alden grins, taking a swig of whiskey before passing it back to me. We drank all of the gin, sharing his whiskey now, and even it's almost empty. "Never have I ever saved someone I threatened to kill."

I pause, not drinking.

"You threatened to kill me, Clary, and then saved me, like, two minutes later. Drink up."

"I know," I reply softly, still not drinking. "I just… I've been thinking about what if you die, Alden? I keep thinking about if it had been you today. What if you were the one I lost? I don't even want to think about it, but I can't stop. I can't lose you, Alden. I never want to."

"Clary, come here," Alden says softly, reaching for my hand. I put the whiskey down on the floor by my boots, crawling over to Alden. He wraps me in a hug, which I immediately return. "You won't, Clary. I never want to lose you, either."

"I never want to let go of you."

"Then don't."

* * *

A splitting headache greets me as I open my eyes, flinching at the sunlight streaming in the window. I squeeze my eyes shut, starting to throw my arm across my eyes before I realize there's a hand in mine. I open my eyes slowly this time, giving myself time to adjust to the light. I lift my head, looking around.

I'm not in my bed. Not even close. Fuck, I didn't even _go home_ last night.

I'm waking up in Alden's bed, Alden right beside me. He's using my right arm as a pillow, his arm thrown across my stomach and reaching for my left hand, our fingers intertwined.

"Alden," I hiss. "Alden, wake up. Oh, shit, Alden, wake up!"

Alden groans, and I know the headache hit him, too. He lifts his head from my arm, but doesn't pull his hand away. "Clary? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that," I reply. "I don't know about you, but I don't remember coming in here last night."

"Last thing I remember is Maggie throwing Gregory in one of the cells. I think you said you were going to wait for her at the infirmary."

"Oh, great, neither of us remember anything. Do you mind getting off me?"

"Oh, shit," Alden says, pushing himself up. "Oh my god. Did we… did we..."

"Fuck? Hell if I know. Though I'm gonna take the fact that neither of us are naked as a sign we didn't."

"You gotta go before anyone sees us and thinks we did."

"What, you don't want people to think we slept together?" I tease.

"No, I just don't want your dad pissed at me for something I _didn't_ do."

That's fair. I can't argue there. I crawl out of Alden's bed, groaning about my headache the entire time. I pull my shoes on, knocking over a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. I grab it before it spills, taking a swig before offering it to Alden. Alden takes the bottle without a word, taking a drink as I get up to look out the window. "Well, Al, I'm not getting out of here unnoticed, that's for sure."

Alden grabs his watch. "Shit, it's just past ten. Of course everyone's up."

"Do we just wanna rip the bandaid off and walk out together?"

Alden sighs. "Might as well. C'mon."

Alden still has the remaining whiskey in his hand as we walk downstairs, Maggie in the foyer with Hershel. "What were you doing up there?" she asks me.

"I honestly don't remember," I say. "Alden?"

He passes me the bottle, and I take another drink. Maggie questions, "Seriously? It's quarter after ten."

"Hair of the dog," Alden replies. I pass the bottle back to him, giving them a wave as I walk out into Hilltop, shielding my eyes from the sun. I walk down the path as the gates open, removing my hand from my eyes as I watch who enters.

"Who the hell let you in here?" I tease, greeting my brother as he enters Hilltop. "Wait, why _are_ you here? What happened?"

"Nothing," Daryl quickly assures me. "It's okay. Carol, she's taking over leading the Sanctuary for a bit so I can take a break."

I smile softly. "Well, it's good to see you, Darry." I reach up, tugging on his goatee. "Didn't notice yesterday. You're starting to get a little grey, kemosabe."

"Shut up," Daryl laughs, then tugs on my braided pigtails. "What are you, five?"

"Oh, fuck, Daryl, don't do that," I groan, swatting his hand away. "I've got this killer headache."

"Drink a little too much?"

"You could say that. And, for the record, Rosita wears her hair like this."

"Yeah, my point exactly."

"Don't talk so loud. Jesus Christ."

"I guess we should expect a lot more of this bickering," Maggie says with a laugh, announcing her presence.

"My God," Daryl says, sobering up once he sees the bruising on Maggie's face. He steps around me, and Maggie lets him take her chin in his hand as he studies the bruises. "What happened? Who did this?"

Maggie sighs, and I explain, "Gregory. He tried to kill Maggie and Hershel. He'll be a dead man come nightfall."

* * *

I lean against the doorframe, watching as Rick holds Hershel. Rick keeps trying to get Hershel to look at him and smile, but he refuses to. "He's funny and he knows it," Maggie says from where she leans against the balcony railing. "He's a little stinker."

"He's perfect," Rick comments. "He really is."

"Yeah," Maggie agrees. "I think I'll keep him."

Maggie starts forward to take Hershel to lay him down for a nap, but I step forward first. "Mags, you shouldn't be on your feet," I tell her, urging her towards her chair. "You sit. I've got Hershel."

"You sure?" Maggie questions, hesitantly sitting.

"The hell kinda aunt would I be if I wasn't?" I return, taking Hershel from Rick. "Listen, I may have a killer hangover, but I've got this."

Maggie chuckles as I place Hershel down in the playpen Maggie has set up so he can be outside. Rick looks down at Maggie, starting, "Now that Hershel's a little older and you're going on runs again, I'd love for you to visit Alexandria sometime. If you're up for it. Judith talks about Aunt Maggie at Hilltop all the time. I'm surprised she still remembers you, but she does. She remembers you both." Rick glances towards me. "She asks when Clary's coming back all the time."

"Rick, we can't," Maggie says. "You know we can't."

I circle around the back of Maggie's chair, placing a hand on her shoulder. She reaches up, squeezing my hand before nodding. I look up at Rick, saying, "You came here about something else."

"Oh, it can wait," Rick decides. "It'd be Maggie's decision, but it can wait."

"Rick, I'm okay," Maggie tells him. "Just talk to me about something else. Please."

Rick sighs. "Alright. Well, I need your help fixing the bridge. Hilltop's thriving because of you. This place is doing better than anywhere else, and you've been generous. Hilltop's given so much already but I'm asking for more."

_Of course he is. The famous Rick Grimes, never happy with what he has. Always seeking more. Can't leave shit well enough alone, that's what Negan says._

"What are you asking for?" Maggie inquires.

"Sanctuary's still short on food, and a project like this is gonna take a lot of people and supplies. I'm asking if you'll be generous again."

"If my people want to work on the bridge, I won't stop them," Maggie decides. "But no more food and supplies without getting something back for it."

"What do you want?"

"If the Sanctuary needs food, I'll give it to 'em. But they provide most of the labor on the bridge for us. And they send over all the fuel they've been making from their dead corn."

"The Sanctuary's barely holding on right now," Rick argues. "We're obliged to help them."

"Why? They surrendered. We didn't kill them. That's it. I can't solve all their problems when I clearly have things to take care of here."

"Maggie, I'm so sorry this happened to you and Enid—"

"I've survived worse. But it has to stop. When we were fighting the Saviors, you told me that soon, you'd be the one following me."

"And you asked me to lead instead," I add. "I don't want it. I _never_ wanted it. But that doesn't mean that I'm not willing to help who's in charge. That's Maggie, and you can't seem to understand that, Rick. That changes now."

"It'll be dark soon," Maggie declares. "It's time to put the children to bed."

"And Rick, I think it's time for you to leave us," I decide, stepping forward to face him.

He doesn't bother saying goodbye as he walks away. The door swings shut behind Rick, and I stand at the railing, waiting until I see him exit Barrington below us. He doesn't even glance back as he walks away, and I turn to Maggie. "Mags, you know I'll have your back, always," I say, leaning back against the railing as I cross my arms. "You're my sister. But… and I _never_ thought I'd say this, but maybe Rick's right. About just this, at least."

Maggie starts, "Clary—"

"Hear me out," I interrupt. "Please. I _swear_ it on my life, I have good reason."

Maggie nods. "Of course."

"History repeats itself," I say. "The Allies took _everything_ from Germany after World War I, and we all know what happened twenty years later. We took _everything_ from the Saviors, Maggie, and I don't want another all out war. We won't survive it."

* * *

I step forward from where I stand between Enid and Alden as Maggie pushes through the crowd, taking my place at her side. Earl and Tammy Rose stand behind us for all of Hilltop to see.

"I don't want to do this," Maggie declares, addressing our people. "But people need to understand that at Hilltop, the punishment fits the crime."

"Earl tells me he tried to make Jesus look like a wolf amidst sheep, again," I say, turning to glare accusingly at the former leader of Hilltop where he sits, just barely atop a horse with a noose around his neck, tied to the barn under construction. "You've threatened the people of this community far too many times. That shit is _done_ flying around here. And I have warned you in the past what would happen. You've threatened my right hand man and my people for the last time, Gregory. Any last words?"

"What you're doing isn't right," Gregory whimpers. "Somebody stop this, please. Killing me in the dead of night because you're _ashamed_."

"You're wrong," Maggie says. "I'm not ashamed."

"You flew too close to the sun, Gregory," I say. "And now, you fall."

I nod to Daryl, he turns to the horse.

"Stop this!" Gregory shouts. "For the love of God, stop this!"

"Maggie, stop!" Michonne shouts, turning to run forward. Rick holds her back as Daryl smacks the rear of the horse Gregory is balanced on. Gregory drops, gasping for air. Maggie and I turn, and I spot the children behind the crowd, whispering, "Oh, shit. That's why Michonne tried to stop us."

"Get the children back in bed!" Maggie orders. Their parents take off, ushering them back to their homes. "I made a decision, but this is not the beginning of something. I don't want to go through it again."

Gregory's gasping has since stopped, and now he hangs, the rope creaking as his body sways back and forth like a pendulum. I order, "Cut him down. We're done here."


	4. Not Without You

**III: Not Without You**

_**~Clary~**_

It's been forty days since we executed Gregory, thirty-five since construction to rebuild the bridge began, the bridge having been knocked out by a herd. Tensions between the communities are higher than ever—except for the Kingdom and Hilltop, of course. Everyone's still pissed at the Saviors, with the sixth one walking off the job this morning. Rick's still trying to run everything like he's in charge of all of us, and the other communities aren't happy about that.

It won't be long before the camel's back breaks.

"Earth to Clary," Daryl says, and I start, surprised at how close he is. He stands above me, holding one end of a wooden plank, Aaron with the other. "You with us?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah," I quickly say.

"Alright, so move so we can put this board down."

"Sorry," I apologize, getting out of their way as they put the next plank in place. I kneel on the opposite side to help them drive nails in, Aaron continuing whatever story he was telling Daryl, "So, I go in after her nap and pick her up, and the diaper just explodes all over me."

"Sounds like good times," Daryl remarks.

"Oh, the best. You'll see."

"What?"

Aaron pauses, straightening from driving nails in for a moment to look at Daryl. "You'd make a great dad."

Daryl scoffs. I chime in, "He's not wrong, Daryl. You've always been and you always will be my brother, but for the first sixteen years, you were my dad, too. You have a kid someday, and if you care for 'em the way you looked after me, that'll be the luckiest kid. You'll be the best damn dad ever." I glance at Aaron. "No offense, Dad."

"How _dare _you? I am _extremely _offended," Aaron replies, so stoic that I know he's joking.

"I said no offense!"

"Too late! Already offended!"

I grin, unable to keep up the facade that Aaron was truly offended any longer. Aaron cracks, chuckling as he goes back to hammering nails into the bridge. Daryl shakes his head, questioning, "Is this how you two acted when I was back at Sanctuary?"

"What, like you're surprised?" I retort. "Don't you remember that time Jesus and I were sparring in the mud?"

"You mean the time Aaron triple-crossed us?"

"You should've seen the look on your face," Aaron laughs. "Oh, priceless." He glances towards Daryl. "Were you there the time Clary tried breaking a horse in the rain?"

"Oh, come on, don't tell him that," I beg.

Aaron pauses for a second, sharing a look with Daryl before my brother says, "She got thrown, didn't she?"

"Right into this giant mud puddle," Aaron adds. "He stomped right next to her, splashing it all over her. He was nowhere close to actually stepping on her, like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He was messing with her."

"Which horse was it?"

"It was Slick," I grumble. "He's an asshole."

Daryl barks out a laugh, which he immediately cuts short when there's a commotion on the bridge. He and Aaron look up while I turn on my knees, finding Justin standing over Henry, who's pushing himself up from the ground. Tools clatter around the bridge as everyone stops, turning to watch.

Justin lifts the water jug, drinking straight out of the spicket. I get to my feet, ready to defend Henry if I need to, but the kid defends himself. He uses his bo staff to knock Justin's legs out from under him, snapping, "Back off."

I can't help but grin, impressed that he handled it so easily. Henry scoops up the water jug and cup, walking off. Jed laughs, looking down at his fellow Savior. "Hey, man, it's cool," Jed tells him. "I got my ass handed to me by a kid once, too. Course, I was six at the time."

Justin pushes himself to his feet, and Daryl and I take off at the same time when he starts after Henry. I push around Justin to separate him from the Kingdom's prince, while Daryl grabs Justin's arm, diverting his attention to him. "Hey!" Daryl barks. "Kid's just doing his job. Get back to work."

"Henry, stay right with me," I whisper to him, already knowing this won't end well.

"I don't need you people telling me what to do," Justin snaps back at Daryl. "You're not my babysitter anymore."

Justin turns away, and I push Henry back a step, but Daryl acts before Justin can get very far. He grabs his arm again, and when Justin turns this time, he's swinging a punch. Daryl dodges it with ease, landing one of his own directly on Justin's nose. Justin stumbles, panting as he lands on a pile of sand.

No matter how much I want to join in beating the shit out of Justin, I know I have to keep the Saviors off of them and keep the kid safe. I push Henry behind me, taking his stick and using it to hold everyone else back on my side of the bridge as Aaron does the same on the other side. I call, "Daryl?"

"I got it," he replies.

Daryl lets out a shout as Justin throws a handful of sand into his eyes, blinding him long enough for him to tackle Daryl to the ground. Daryl kicks Justin off of him, quickly rubbing the sand out of his eyes before Justin's back for round two. Jed turns on Aaron when he tries to step in, not allowing him to break it up. Regina follows Jed's lead and jumps into the fight, spinning to face me and throwing a punch. I stumble back into Henry, who catches me, pushing me back to my feet.

"Fuck you," I tell her, but I never get to throw a punch of my own.

"Hey!" Rick shouts as he comes running onto the bridge, shoving his way through the crowd and knocking me into Henry once more. "Break it up! Enough!" He rips Justin away right after he lands a punch on Daryl, then has to hold Daryl back as he staggers back into the fight. "Break it up! I said enough!" A couple bystanders get Justin under control and another ushers Jed away from Aaron, and Rick glances over his shoulder at Daryl. "Enough."

Daryl scoffs, spitting blood at Rick's feet before stalking off. The crowd parts for him and then for me when I lead Henry off of the bridge. "Are you okay?" he asks.

I look over my shoulder at King Shit Rick, standing tall in front of his subjects. "He thinks he's fuckin' better than everyone," I growl. "If they knew the shit I know, the shit he's done…"

"Get back to work," Rick orders those still on the bridge, unaware of the crumbling state of the castle in which he reigns. "Now."

* * *

_**~Carol~**_

"What, so that asshole just gets a free pass?" Daryl demands as we stand gathered in my tent for a meeting to discuss the previous incident on the bridge. "Is that it?"

"It's just a few more days," Rick sighs, exasperated. We're all nearing wits' end, tired of building this bridge. "I don't like it either, but we're in a rush to get that work done. He's strong. The Saviors are over half the workforce, and we've had too many walk off already."

"Yeah? Why the hell do you think that is?" Clary challenges. "I know I ain't the only one that's done with you ruling over all of us, all high and fucking mighty. Should I bow in your presence, oh great Rick the Prick? Those Saviors, I guess they didn't want to bow to another tyrant. They got just as fuckin' tired as I am of you actin' like you're running everything."

"Or maybe they're hungry," Rick fires back. "You and Maggie have yet to send any food!"

"They have yet to send any fuel! That was the goddamn deal! We're not giving away half our shit for nothing. Those days are _over_."

"Some of them don't get that," Daryl says. "That's who they are. They ain't never gonna fall in line just 'cause Rick Grimes says so."

"Daryl's right," I say. "These people have never had to live together. And we can't expect them to just forget what happened."

"It hasn't been easy, I know," Rick says. "It won't be, not for a while, but it's not about forgetting. It's about moving ahead, all of us, together. We keep doing that, they'll see we're all on the same side."

"Are we, though?" Daryl challenges. "Are we on the same side, Rick?"

"Well, you tell me."

"Thing is, man, I've been trying to. But you don't seem to want to hear it."

Daryl leaves, Clary starting to follow him. She pauses, choosing to remain. She looks to Rick, reminding him, "Live together, Rick. You know the rest."

Then, just like her brother, she leaves the tent.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

The mules notice them first.

They're our canaries in the coal mine, noticing the walkers before the rest of us. Usually, though, instead of dying, they start freaking out. It gives us enough of a warning to get ready for a fight, or take them and flee if there's too many.

The mules notice the walkers first, braying as the dead stumble into the lumberyard.

"Darry," I say, putting down my saw and drawing my knife.

"Yeah, I see 'em," Daryl replies. He tosses his saw on the ground, picking up a branch with a sharpened end. We each take one of the walkers that staggered onto the site, killing them at the same time.

Instead of the growls quieting, they grow louder.

"Horatio," I say, spotting the herd just a few yards away.

"A herd's coming!" Daryl shouts. "Bug out now!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ, we gotta go!" Jed shouts. He can see the herd from where he stands atop a stack of logs, him and another Savior pulling a large log to the top with the help of Aaron and another Savior.

"Dad, get the others and get out!" I call, turning to the herd, hoping to kill the ones in the lead to give the others time to get out. "I'll catch up!"

I hear a shout of pain from behind me, but I can't turn to look, not with a handful of walkers right in front of me. Daryl turns, though, cursing under his breath before shouting, "Get those mules out of here!" He takes off, and I can't figure out why there's so much emotion in his voice. "You, get over here! Right now!

"Daryl?" I call. "What's going on?"

"Oh, shit, Clary, get back!" Daryl shouts. "Get back! There's too many!"

For once, I retreat when my brother tells me to. I almost freeze when I turn around to see the sight before me, but the close proximity of the walkers' growls keeps me moving.

"Daddy!" I exclaim, finding him partially pinned under the log he had been helping to move. I run over to him, dropping down onto my knees next to him. "Dad!"

"Go!" Aaron shouts, trying to wave me away. "Get out of here! Go!"

"No!" I shout in reply. "Not without you!"

Daryl glances up at me. "Clary, there's even more! You gotta go!"

I look over my shoulder, more and more walkers arriving at the lumber yard. There's no way in hell I'm letting these dead pricks anywhere near my dad, I decide as I draw my knives. I rush into the fray, deprived of my sovereignty of reason, taking on every walker that's stupid enough to step foot in the lumber yard.

* * *

_**~Alden~**_

"Rick!" I call, finally finding him at one end of the boat dock. He has the walkie in one hand, speaking into it as he walks up to meet me, questioning, "Tara, you got something to report?"

"Yeah, Horatio just hit its mark," comes her reply. "Right on schedule."

"Alright, let's do this."

"Copy that, Mother Goose. Piper One, crank it up."

"Copy that, Eye in the Sky," says Jerry over the walkie. "Piper One is a go."

"I thought Clary was bad when it comes to nicknames," I comment with a chuckle as Jerry's siren begins to blare in the distance. Rick glances in its direction. "Rick, Carol asked me to check up on the Saviors who went AWOL. I just heard back from—"

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that," Rick interrupts. "Just hold on. Tara's, how's it looking?"

"We got 'em," Tara reports. "They're turning."

"Good. Keep an eye out for stragglers. Let 'em clear the camp then fire up number two before they reach the lumber site." Tara confirms the plan as Rick places the walkie back on his belt, giving me his attention now. "What about those Saviors?"

"I just heard back from Sanctuary," I tell him. "None of the guys who walked off made it back there."

"None of them?"

"No, and some of 'em had families. One guy had a new kid. There's no way in hell they just up and left."

"So what do you think's going on?" Rick inquires as Tara asks if the second siren (with the call sign "Piper Two," of course) hears her.

"I don't know," I admit, "but the Sanctuary group's getting worried. They're the only ones here without guns, so—"

"We disarmed Sanctuary for a reason. You're the only Savior—"

_I'm not a Savior._

"—with a gun just because Clary gave you hers."

"Rick—"

"Piper Two, this is Eye in the Sky, come in, please," Tara requests, sounding more frantic than before.

"Rick, there are more of them here than from anywhere else and they're scared. If they wind up deciding it's safer back at the Sanctuary, this whole thing's a wash."

"Well, I'll make sure they're protected," Rick decides.

"Oh, so they work for you and you protect them, huh?" I challenge with a scoff. "Who does that sound like to you?"

Rick retorts, "Do you have something you want to sa—"

"Piper Two, do you copy?!" Tara exclaims. "Come in!"

"Tara, what's going on out there?" Rick questions.

"That second siren isn't going off. If the herd isn't pulled soon, they're gonna run right into our crew."

* * *

Horatio has already reached the lumberyard when we get there, running to help those that were already here. Daryl's supporting Aaron, his left forearm a bloodied mess, with Clary nowhere to be seen. "We've got this!" Rick tells Daryl. "Get him back to camp!"

"Daryl, where is she?!" I exclaim after killing a walker that lunges toward Aaron.

"She's takin' on the damn herd by herself!" Daryl responds. "Help her!"

"Oh my god," I whisper. I push forward, taking down each walker I come across as the others that accompany us spread out, weapons drawn. I catch sight of Clary in the midst of it all, wielding dual knives with too many walkers around her. She's taking on the herd herself, just as Daryl said she was.

"Over here!" I shout to the others. "Come on!"

They follow me as I run to Clary's aid, although knowing her, she probably doesn't need too much of it, if at all. There are two gunshots, and logs go rolling down the hill that the herd is making its way up. The logs take out the rest of the approaching walkers, the remaining ones being taken down by survivors, circling around Clary.

The lumberyard goes silent, save for the heavy breathing of the living. Everyone gives Clary a wide berth, no one making a move to venture closer. She's covered in blood, her knives dripping red to the hilt. Clary pants, her chest heaving with each breath. Her eyes flick over everyone, a far away look in them; and I know she doesn't see us. Clary's clearly not there, and I start to worry, never having seen her like this.

I break free from the wall of survivors around her, the only one willing to get remotely close.

"Jerry redirected the herd," she says slowly, lifting her grey eyes to meet my gaze. "Justin didn't."

"Clary, I think we should get back to camp," I say. I step towards her, and she lets me take her each of her knives from her hands, wiping them off before I sheathe them in her belt. "Hey, are you with me?"

"Jerry redirected the herd," she repeats. "Justin didn't."

"Come on," I tell her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, turning to lead her back to camp. "We'll figure this out. Just come back to us."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

Enid holds the infirmary tent flap open when we arrive, Aaron groaning as I practically carry him inside. "Where's Siddiq?" I question.

"He's gone," Enid responds. "It's just me."

"Just you, then," I tell her. "You've got it."

Enid nods, clearly thankful for my confidence in her. She unties the makeshift bandage around Aaron's arm, who cries out each time we have to move it even an inch. Enid swallows upon seeing it, steadying her breathes as she declares, "I have to amputate."

"What?" Aaron questions.

"There ain't no other way?" I rush.

"The only way to stop the bleeding is to amputate and cauterize the wound," Enid replies, running to grab supplies.

"What?" Aaron repeats.

"Here," Enid says, tossing me a rope to tie off his arm.

"You got something for the pain?" I ask, glancing at Enid over my shoulder.

"It wouldn't kick in fast enough. We have to do this now, or else we'll lose him."

Aaron shouts in pain as I pull the tourniquet tight, and I rush, "Sorry, man."

"Daryl," Aaron manages. "Take Gracie if—"

"Don't start that shit," I hiss.

"Oh, god, Chey! I can't leave her!"

"Aaron, stay with me!"

Enid returns with blades and a torch, telling me, "I need you to hold him down for me."

I stretch my arm across Aaron's chest, and Enid pauses, looking down at Aaron. He takes my hand with the arm that will remain, nodding to her, telling her, "You can do it. Do it!"

It kills me, hearing his screams as Enid begins the amputation.

* * *

The survivors still at camp, a mixture of people from all of the communities, stare at me as I exit the infirmary. It's probably because of Aaron's blood splattered over me and coating my hands up to my elbows, but I hardly even notice them. There's one thought on my mind, and it's finding out who's fault it is that the herd found us.

Carol's giving someone hell when I burst into her tent, demanding, "Who the fuck was supposed to turn that herd?"

Carol nods towards the person she had been giving hell.

Justin.

"Hey, man, the walkie wasn't charged," Justin tries.

"Bullshit," I snap. "It's a solar walkie. You didn't think to check it?"

"It's not my fault the radio's a piece of shit."

I throw a punch, knocking Justin back and out of Carol's tent, onto the ground outside. I follow him out, punching him again and sending him to his knees. I pick up a pot that had been knocked to the ground, using it to smack Justin when he tries to get up. He lands on his back, and I don't even give him a second to breathe before I'm on him again. I pound my fists into his face, vaguely aware of Carol behind me.

"Daryl!" she exclaims. "Daryl!" I go to throw another punch, but Carol catches my arm. "I said stop. We'll deal with him, but not like this."

I look up, realizing I've drawn a crowd with all the commotion. In front of me, Clary and Alden stand side by side, the blonde's arm around her, almost supporting her. "Daryl," Clary says, "thank you."

I nod, getting to my feet. "Alden, get Clary to the infirmary. I gotta deal with this piece of shit."

Alden nods, nudging Clary along as they pass by me. I catch Alden's arm, quietly saying, "Hey." I glance towards Clary, then back to him, putting my trust in him. "Keep an eye on her."

Alden glances towards Clary, who has gone back to staring at nothing, not with us. I think she's in some type of shock. Alden turns back to me, promising, "Of course, always." I take a step back as Alden leans down a bit to look at Clary. "Hey, can you look at me, Clary? Come on, let's go see your dad."

Clary starts, "What if—"

"Nope, you don't get to start that," Alden objects, giving her a gentle squeeze as they start for the infirmary. "Aaron's a tough son of a bitch. He'll be okay. It's gonna be okay."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I don't look up as the tent flap opens, assuming it to be Enid returning or Alden dropping in to check on us. "Alden said you were covered in blood," Rosita says. "I brought you clean clothes."

I tear my gaze away from my dad, and Rosita offers me a small smile. She gestures towards a chair, and I give her a nod. She pulls the chair beside Aaron and I, resting the clean shirt in her lap as she takes a cloth and begins wiping the walker blood off of my face. "How are you holding up?" Rosita inquires.

"Not good," I admit, "but he's not dead."

"He'll heal, _mi cariña_."

"I know. But it was too close today."

Rosita nods in agreement as she finishes cleaning away the walker blood that had dried on my skin. I change into the clean shirt she brought, dropping the bloodied one onto the ground. Rosita stands behind me now, unbraiding my hair and gently brushing it out.

"All done," Rosita reports as she steps away, but I don't want to be left alone quite yet.

I wrap her in a hug, burying my face in her shoulder. "Thank you," I whisper.

"Of course," she replies. "What else is family for?"

* * *

"Hey," Carol says softly, poking her head inside the tent. I look up from where I sit right beside my dad, not having moved since Rosita left earlier. "Is it alright if I come in?"

I nod. Carol steps inside as I turn back to Aaron, gently running my fingers through his curls. Carol brushes a hand through my hair before pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Carol questions, "Do you remember how after that run in the museum, Ezekiel asked me to marry him?"

"Are you trying to distract me from today?" I reply, answering her question with a question.

"Is it that obvious?"

I look up at her. "Yeah, but… it's okay. Tell me about Ezekiel?"

"He asked me again. He had a whole speech planned out, too, but I said yes before he could make it."

I can't help but laugh, picturing Ezekiel making a grand, public proposal for Carol. "I'm sure he did write a speech, accompanied by Jerry echoing him. And then, Zeke would be like—" Carol grins, chiming in as we both imitate Ezekiel, "_Jerry_."

Aaron stirs, questioning, "What are you two laughing about?"

"Ezekiel," I answer. "As usual." Aaron chuckles before coughing and groaning. I brush his hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead as I whisper, "Take it easy, Daddy. Don't push yourself."

"It's okay, sweetheart," Aaron replies. "My heart's still beating." At those words, the tears start to flow. Aaron reaches up with his remaining hand, wiping them away as he murmurs, "Hey, hey, it's okay. We're okay. Everything's gonna be fine."

"How are you doing, Aaron?" Carol questions.

"I'm alright now," Aaron replies. "Get it? All right?"

"Dad," I say.

"Too soon?"

"I thought I lost you today. Yeah, it's too fucking soon!"

"Language."

"German."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"I'm sorry."

"I'll forgive you. Just this once."

Aaron winks at me, grinning when I let out a small laugh. Carol places a hand on my shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning, Clary."

"See you," I reply. Carol's nearly out of the tent when I add, "Hey, nice ring."

"Shut up," Carol replies with a smile before leaving.

"Hey," Aaron says, looking up at me. "It's getting late. You should get some sleep."

"You, too," I tell him. "I'll be here. You sleep." Aaron closes his eyes, sighing softly as he settles back into the cot. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too," Aaron murmurs. It isn't long before he's asleep, and I stay awake, right by his side.

"I remember you doing the same thing for me," Carl says, and I look up at his ghost as he makes his way closer, "After I was shot, both times. I remember you at my side."

"I loved you, Carl," I say. "I did. I was terrified of losing you, just as I'm terrified of losing my dad. I went to a dark place after Eric, after you. Every time I nearly lost you, I went to a dark place. I didn't like being that way, being the Orphan. Then your dad changed everything, and I had to move on from _everything_ that happened. Even though that included you, I had to change. I had to put the Orphan behind me, and someone helped me do it. But that someone wasn't you, Carl."

I catch Alden's voice outside the tent as he's passing by, and I get to my feet, pushing around Carl. "Hey, pretty boy, can you come here for a sec?" I request, leaning out of the tent. "Hey, Jerry."

"What's up?" Alden inquires, walking over to meet me. Jerry raises a hand, flashing me a peace sign before continuing on himself.

"Let's talk in here," I say, holding open the tent flap for him. I know the Saviors already give Alden shit for defecting and becoming one of us, and every time I try to do something about it, it gets worse. I don't know if I could handle it right now if the Saviors went after Alden for his connections with me. Alden steps inside, glancing at my dad before he looks to me. "He's out like a light. And he's a heavy sleeper most nights. You don't have to worry about waking him up."

"How is he?" Alden questions.

"He's in pain, but… he'll live. I owe Enid _everything._ She's saved him so many times. And I owe you, Alden, because you saved me today. I would've kept going and going until I _destroyed_ myself because I can't lose anyone else."

"Clary…"

"I thought I lost my father today. I nearly became the Orphan again today, and that's not someone I can let myself become. You saved me from that today. You're helping me work on getting better, on self-improvement. I couldn't do this, not without you." I stand on my tiptoes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Alden."


	5. No Exceptions

**IV: No Exceptions**

_**~Clary~**_

Some of the Saviors were getting antsy this morning, concerned because Justin disappeared in the night two days ago. They knew he wasn't going to stay after the herd at the lumberyard, but they weren't expecting him to up and disappear. When they went out to search for him, they ran into Maggie and Kal on their way here with Hilltop's half of the deal, and they found Justin. They found him dead, apparently murdered. I take one look at the shouting crowd of scared Saviors and at Justin's body in the bed of Maggie's wagon, and I know this won't end well.

I push around Laura, trying to squeeze through the wall of former Saviors to reach the people I fought alongside during the war. Jed's spouting bullshit, urging them on as he shouts, "Guess they're gonna execute all of us now! Just like Justin!"

"Not if we have guns, too!" Regina shouts over the crowd.

"Hey!" I shout, pushing through them. Laura and Arat follow me, unsuccessfully attempting to get the Saviors to calm down and back off. "Hey! Back up!"

I break through, reaching my side. Rosita steps forward, defending me when a Savior charges, knocking him back to his side. I give her a nod of thanks, but I'm forced to quickly turn my attention to holding off another Savior—Jed, I realize a second later—as they all move forward.

"Hey! Hey! Stop!" I hear Alden shout in the crowd. "Stop it!" He breaks through near me, spotting me struggling with Jed. "Get off her!" He rips Jed off of me, shoving him and then another Savior back when he tries to step forward. "Stop this shit! Stop it!"

The Saviors go silent, halting their advance. Alden tells them, "We're gonna find out who did this, and we're gonna make sure it never happens to us again, alright?"

"'Us'?" Jed repeats. "You're not one of us. Not anymore. You're the Orphan's bitch now."

"Hey, Point Break, c'mon," I say, wrapping my hand around Alden's bicep. "Get back. He ain't worth it."

"Us," Alden says, shrugging my hand off as he turns to look around at everyone, "means _all_ of us."

Jed spins Alden to face him, throwing the first punch without warning as he barks, "Go shovel that horseshit to whoever killed Justin!"

Alden falls back, Beatrice and Jerry catching him between them. Jed steps forward to throw another punch, but I meet him with an uppercut that sends him back into DJ, shouting, "Don't touch him!"

DJ pushes Jed back to his feet, but Carol steps between us before more fists fly. Jed looks down at her, saying, "I thought you were supposed to be our leader."

"Enough," Carol warns. "Turn around, all of you."

"No can do, C." Jed glances at the hand Carol has on her gun. "Why don't you go ahead and yank that Roscoe, pop me right here? It's better than worrying about getting it in the back."

"Hey, we don't want this," Laura tries. "We just need to protect ourselves."

"No guns!" Daryl barks, and I glance over my shoulder to find him standing on a table, above everyone else in the back.

"That 'cause you're the one that took out Justin?" DJ accuses.

"Nah."

"My money's on the garbage lady," Regina decides. "Revenge for Simon's play."

"No, it's him," DJ decides. "Finishing what he started."

DJ breaks free from the line of Saviors, starting towards a tree with an axe resting at the base of it.

I spent the last year and a half trying not to kill, trying to improve myself and be a better person. I had adopted a code of not killing—I'm willing to fight but not kill—because I knew that it would destroy me if I kill any more people.

_But you know,_ I think, _maybe self-improvement isn't the answer._

DJ picks up the axe, starting towards my brother.

_Maybe self-destruction is the answer._

"Hey!" I bark, running and putting myself between DJ and Daryl, despite multiple shouts of protest from my friends. "You want him, you go through me."

"Is that because it was you, too?" DJ accuses. "Maybe it was both of you. Yeah, that would make sense."

"Hey, hey, stop," Arat rushes, coming to my defense. "It's gonna go too far."

"No, it won't," Daryl argues. "I'd like to see you try to go through her, fucker."

"Back off, Arat," I order, and she steps aside. "This is between me and DJ."

"Yeah, it's both of 'em," DJ calls to the other Saviors. "C'mon!"

Before the Saviors can make their advance, Rick rides into camp, gun drawn as he uses his horse to separate the two sides. He rides back and forth, making sure we all stay separated, as he barks, "Everyone back off! Right now!"

Arat takes the axe from DJ, pushing him back into line with the other Saviors. Laura turns to Jed, telling him, "We're not doing this. Let it go."

"I'll talk to Rick," Alden promises. "I'll try and find a way to make everyone feel safe, alright?"

Jed huffs, turning and walking off. Everyone else disperses, Rick riding over to study Justin's body. Laura joins our side rather than following the Saviors, walking off with Jerry. I catch sight of Alden walking ahead of them, alone.

"Alden!" I call, pushing around Jerry and Laura as I take off to catch him. "Hey!"

Alden stops, turning back as I run to catch up to him. I take his chin in my hand, ordering, "Let me see."

"I'm fine," Alden says, trying to pull away. "Clary, I'm fine."

"They don't touch you and get away with it. Now let me see." Alden complies, turning his head. There's a red mark in the shape of Jed's fist around his eye, and I know from experience that it'll be bruised by the morning. "Oh, I'm gonna kill him."

"I thought you were done killing," Alden responds.

I don't verbally reply, instead simply meeting Alden's eyes with a "you know what I mean" look. Behind me, a voice says, "Where were you two nights ago?"

"Oh, you son of a bitch," I say. I don't release Alden's chin, not even turning around to face him. "We really doin' this shit again, Rick?"

"I don't want to," Rick replies, still up on his horse.

I drop my hand from Alden, turning around as I snap, "No, you give me a goddamn answer, Rick Grimes. You tell me if we're doin' this. This ain't some 'I don't wanna but I gotta' bullshit. It's either we are, or we ain't."

"Clary, I don't know what the hell you want me to tell you, but—"

"No, lemme tell you something, Rick; y'ain't got no say in the Hilltop. I ain't leavin'. We live together there, and we _don't _die alone. You can't kick me outta my home. _Again."_

"Wait, what?!" Alden exclaims.

"We'll talk about that later," I say, glancing over my shoulder at him for a brief moment. "Rick, are we doin' this again? Am I a suspect again?"

Rick pauses, not answering right away. He won't even look me in the eye as he says, "Some of the Saviors think it was you. I understand why."

"So we are, alright," I say. "Good to know. It's good to know I'm your first suspect, too."

"You have the motive, Clary!" Rick attempts to justify, sliding down off his horse. "Justin didn't redirect the herd, Aaron lost his arm. Not to mention the fact that Justin's a Savior."

"You know, I fucking _wish_ I did, Rick," I say, "but I didn't. I was with my daddy all night 'cause he nearly _died_. And there ain't no Saviors no more. They might have been once, but that time has come and gone. There's just us and the dead."

Rick looks to Alden, who supplies, "She's not lying. She was with Aaron all night. I watched Justin leave camp, and then I stopped in. Stayed for a bit before I turned in for the night." Alden places a hand on my shoulder, glancing down at me before he questions, "Are we free to go now, Officer?"

I rest my hand on Alden's, pulling him with me as I turn to walk away. Rick calls after me, "It was something small and round that killed him. Too clean for a bullet. Looks more like a bolt. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Oh, this mother_fucker!"_ I shout, spinning on my heel.

"Clary, Clary, no!" Alden exclaims, wrapping his arms around my torso.

"I hope you burn in hell, Rick Grimes!" I shout. "I hope you _burn!"_

Alden drags me away from Rick. "Not now, Clary!"

I continue to try to fight against Alden, still hurling insults and profanities at Rick. Alden huffs and throws me over his shoulder. I exclaim, "Alden, put me down!"

"Not a chance," he snaps. "So chill the fuck out."

I stop fighting, surprised by his tone, as he carries me through the camp, earning us more than a few stares. Alden carries me into the tent Aaron and I had been living in before the accident—though Aaron is currently in Alexandria, Siddiq wanting to watch over him directly as he begins to heal.

Alden unceremoniously drops me down on my cot. I don't move a muscle as he grabs a chair, pulling it over and swinging a leg over it. Alden sits on it backwards, folding his arms against the backrest as he orders, "You're gonna sit there, and you're gonna tell me _everything_ Rick Grimes has done to you."

I've never seen Alden angry. I've seen him concerned, I've seen him horrified, terrified. I've seen Alden just about every way imaginable, but I have _never_ seen him angry. Alden's a friendly, easy-going guy, so maybe that's why it's such a shock when not even Negan's own anger can compare to the rage I can practically see radiating off of Alden.

"He… he…" I start, but my voice is shaking. I can't look Alden in the eye, instead staring down at my hands I have clasped in my lap. "Alden…"

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Alden apologizes, immediately softening. He gets up from the chair, moving to sit beside me. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, taking my hands with his other hand. "It's okay. You're okay." I close my eyes, resting my head against his shoulder. Alden gently strokes my hair with one hand, murmuring, "You're safe with me, Clary. I swear, I'd never hurt you. Just… tell me what he's done to you. Please."

So I do. I tell him.

I tell him about Merle in Atlanta, about Hershel's farm, about Dave and Tony in the bar. I tell him about Shane, about the doubt in Woodbury, about Karen and David at the prison. I tell him about the Claimers, about Officer Lamson, about Pete Anderson and the fight in Alexandria. I tell him about the Wolves, about the herd of walkers, about the night that Carl lost his eye. I tell him about hitting the satellite outpost, about Paula and Donnie, about how I became a leader in a last-ditch effort to save my people. I tell him about the rock in the road, about the close call on the highway, about the Up Up Up and my willingness to bleed for these communities. I tell him everything, leaving _nothing_ out, pausing for a moment when I get to the first battle in Alexandria against the Saviors. "You know what happens from there."

I look up at Alden, but he's not looking back at me. He's staring into the distance, lost in thought, jaw clenched. The hand around mine has tightened to the point it's almost painful, and I hiss, "Ow, Alden." Alden doesn't relinquish his hold. "Alden! Alden, you're hurting me!"

That seems to get his attention, Alden snapping back to look at me. He releases his grip on my hands, pulling away so he's not touching me at all. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I haven't let myself get angry like that since my brother was killed."

I knew that Alden had a brother that died during the apocalypse, but he never talked about him. He didn't like talking about him, so I never pressed. He doesn't press when there are things I don't want to talk about. I take Alden's hand, telling him, "I'm sorry about your brother. I've lost a couple."

"You mean Merle?" Alden questions. "Oh, sorry. I shouldn't—"

"'s alright," I reply. "I told you about Merle, but not how he died. It's okay to ask. I'll always be honest with you, Alden. He was tryin' to take on the Governor himself, the fool. Only reason he was facin' the Governor was 'cause he was doin' Rick's dirty work that I refused to do. In the end, I got my revenge. I was the one that put the bullet between the Governor's eyes."

"I got my revenge on the guys that killed my brother, too," Alden tells me.

"You don't gotta talk about it."

"No, it's okay. I want to." I nod once, gesturing for him to continue. "They killed him right in front of me. Beat him to death over a few cans they accused us of stealing from them. We didn't, and they killed Eli for nothing. I was _so _angry. All I could see was red. And then, everything was red. I… oh, jeez, I…"

"Alden," I say softly, squeezing his hand. "Hey, it's alright. I'm the _last_ person that'll judge you. You _know_ that."

"I slaughtered them. My brother and I, we were always close. By the time it was over, I was covered in their blood. I just started wandering, drifting with no purpose. It's a miracle no one mistook me for a walker. I lost my mind for a little bit after Eli died, and I hated it. The Saviors found me, took me in. They were always so… so violent, even before Negan. I couldn't be that way. I haven't let myself get that angry since he died."

"You look like you're about ready to murder Rick."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Alden replies, deadly serious.

"Well, pretty boy," I say, grinning slightly and making my accent even thicker as I attempt to lighten the mood, "I'd be much obliged if you killed someone for me. Yessir, I would."

"Stop," Alden says, but there's a small grin on his lips.

"There you go," I say, proud that I got him to smile. I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder and slipping my arms around his waist. "In all seriousness, Al, thank you. I don't think I could do this without you."

Alden hugs me back, telling me, "I wouldn't be here without Jesus _and_ you. You've been my redemption, Clary. I don't want to overstep my bounds, but… I'd say we need each other."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

"Go ahead," I say as Rick sits down beside me. "Ask. I assume you already interrogated my sister for murder for the _second _time, judging by the shouting."

Rick sighs, looking down at his hands before back to me. "That wound on Justin," he begins, "looks like a puncture. I wondered if it could be from a knife, but it's too small. Too clean. It's smaller and rounder and cleaner than a bullet hole. Looks kind of like an arrow hit him. Or a bolt."

"Is this the kind of shit you used to do, Nancy Drew?" I question.

"When I had to."

"And you really think I did it?"

"No," Rick says with a shake of his head.

_Yeah, let me guess, "No, Daryl, I don't think it was you. I think it was your sister, but she yelled at me, so I'm accusing you. Maybe not of murder but of accessory to murder. Or maybe you're covering up for her. Either way, you're involved."_

"But there are others that do," Rick continues. "So I'm making sure."

"If I'd have killed him, I'd have killed him in plain sight," I tell him. "And for the record, so would Clary. Look, I don't know who it is, but I know why, and so do you. Bringing all these people together, it was always gonna happen."

"No," Rick argues. "It's the right thing to do. The future belongs to all of us now."

"Why do they get this future? And Glenn don't? Or Abraham? Or Sasha? Or Eric? Or all the people the Kingdom lost, Hilltop, Oceanside? You ever think about what they want? What they'd do, if they could?"

"Yeah, I do. I have. For a long time, I wanted it, too, maybe more than anyone. But killing each other when the world already belongs to the dead? It's not the way."

"You know, those are big words coming from the guy that massacred people he promised sanctuary to." Rick leans back like he's surprised that I know about what went down at the dive bar. I heard it twice—once from a terrified Clary and another time from a concerned Alden. "Yeah, she told me. She told me how you promised those Saviors they'd be safe and could start over if they came back to Hilltop with you, about how you tricked them and then slaughtered them. How you broke your word." I clear my throat, getting to my feet and grabbing my crossbow. "Let's go work that grid."

"Daryl, I know you don't agree with everything we're doing here," Rick calls after me, getting to his feet. "All I ask is that you try. Do it. Let people see it. And maybe everyone moves past what's happened to what could happen, and maybe, just maybe, it'd be one of the best decisions you've ever made. Like not killing a guy who left your brother to die on a rooftop."

I watch Rick walk off, Rick unaware of how many times I've had to make the decision not to kill him because of the danger he's put my family in.

* * *

"Call it out," Rick orders over the radio.

"Grid One, clear so far," Jerry reports.

Clary passes me the walkie, and I report, "Grid Two, clear."

"Three is clear," Rick announces.

"Four's clear," Maggie says.

"Grid Five is clear," Arat says.

"Piper One, anything up top?" Rick questions.

"We're good," Dianna reports. "Nothing coming our way."

"Stay sharp. Keep your eyes open. We've still got missing people out here."

"We've got activity nearby," Maggie says. "We're gonna go check it out."

"We're headed your way. Grid Five, do the same."

"C'mon," I tell Clary as I pass the walkie back to her. "I want to make sure Maggie's okay." Clary nods, following along beside me as we head in the direction of Grid Four. "You're quiet. What's going on?"

"I'm worried," she admits. "What if Alden's next? He was with them before Negan. All the people that are going missing are the ones that were there before Negan. He didn't do what they did, he was never violent—that's why he was a worker despite being there so long—but what if whoever's doing this, what if they don't care about that? I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed with him."

"He's back at camp. Whoever's doing this won't be able to hurt him in broad daylight in the middle of camp."

"But it's all the Saviors there."

"Hang on," I say, pausing for a moment to look down at her. "You think it's the Saviors turning on each other? That they're responsible for Justin?"

"The Saviors don't like Alden," Clary says as we continue walking. "They say he's a traitor. The Saviors aren't killing their own, no one thinks that they are. It's the perfect cover. Alden would just be another one of the missing, killed by whoever's doing this. No one would think otherwise."

"No one but you."

"Or Marco, or Enid," she adds. "We'd know, but we'd be too late."

We exit the woods, a house in the clearing ahead of us. Maggie and Cyndie are each holding off walkers, but they've killed them by the time we arrive on the porch, Rick and Rosita ahead of us. Cyndie looks down at her hand, and I question, "Everyone alright?"

Maggie nods as Cyndie gently prods the bandage wrapped around the stitched cut on her hand. "Yeah," she says, "but I think I opened it up again."

"What happened to Grid Five?" Rosita asks, looking around. "They should've been here before us." Rosita gestures to Clary and I. "Before you two, especially."

"Grid Five, what's your status?" Rick questions into his walkie, but he doesn't get a response. "Grid Five? Arat?!"

"Let's go!" I order, taking off down the porch. The others follow me as I lead the way to Grid Five, searching for Arat and Beatrice. We find one but not the other, Cyndie running to Beatrice's unconscious form while the rest of us look around.

"Bea!" Cyndie exclaims, kneeling beside her friend.

Clary kneels on her other side, watching as Cyndie searches for a pulse. She questions, "Is she alive?"

Cyndie nods. "Bea, wake up!"

Slowly, she stirs. Rick asks, "You okay?"

"I think so," Beatrice replies, rubbing the back of her head.

"What happened?"

"Arat called in the all clear, and we headed towards the road, then… I don't know. I think something hit me from behind."

"They're not stopping," Clary says as she realizes it. "They're picking up the pace. Who the hell is doing this?"

I pick up Beatrice's harpoon, a theory forming as I look down at it. Its bolt is small and round enough that it could easily be mistaken for a crossbow bolt.

* * *

_**~Alden~**_

"Alden?! _Alden!"_

I step out of my tent when I hear Clary's shout, spotting her a couple of tents over. I've never heard her sound this frantic. I call, "Clary!"

She spins at my voice, running to meet me. I have to take a step back to keep from falling over when she slams into me, wrapping her arms around me. She murmurs, "I was worried. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I assure her. I tug her into my tent, where she still doesn't release me, but I'm not necessarily complaining. I hold her, rubbing my hand against her back. "What about you? Are you okay?"

"I just... I had a bad feeling," she admits, pulling us apart all too soon. "They're picking off the ones from before Negan and too many people still think you're a Savior. And... Arat's missing."

"Arat's missing?"

Clary nods. "They knocked Beatrice out, took Arat in the woods. Alden, I _need_ you to be careful and watch your back. If they come after you next because they don't see that you're not a Savior, that the Saviors think you're a traitor to them. Or if the Saviors tried something... no one would think it was them, and I'd be too late. I can't be too late when it's you, Alden."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"We need to find her," Rick declares, leaning against the table in Carol's tent. We had previously planned the search grids in here when we were searching for Justin's killer, and now we're gathered in the same place to prevent Arat's death.

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock," I retort.

"Do the Saviors know?" Cyndie inquires.

"Not yet," Carol answers with a sigh, uncrossing her arms. "They think Arat's on watch through the night. Come morning, they will."

Maggie hesitates for a moment before pointing out, "She could be dead already."

"If we don't figure out what happened, Sanctuary is _gone._"

"If that happens, we won't finish the work before the water rises," Rick adds.

"What if we lie?" I suggest after a moment. "Tell them Arat walked off. They don't have a way to communicate back to Sanctuary if she's there or not. They'd find out she's gone once they get back, but the bridge would be finished."

"Wouldn't work," Daryl chimes in. "Arat's dedicated to her work. The Saviors know that. They wouldn't believe for a second that Arat walked off this job."

"You're talking like she's already gone," Rick snaps. "We have to find her, or else we'll lose the bridge."

Jerry raises his hand. "Yo. Say we nab the perp. What then? Who decides what happens next? How do we punish this? Is it a Gregory situation or a Negan?"

"Or a live together, die alone," I add, crossing my arms.

Rick won't meet my eyes, knowing exactly what I'm referring to. He's already questioned me once over it, and I wouldn't put it past Rick to think that it's his decision rather than all of ours. And I sure as hell wouldn't put it past him for him to think that exiling the Saviors' executioner is the right option again. The more I think about it now, the more pissed I get.

"This ain't your call to make, Rick," I continue. "No more than it was back in sunny ol' Georgia. You _are not_ judge, jury, and executioner. It _will_ be a decision that everyone in this tent makes _together._ I will not allow you to throw someone out the way you kicked me out, the way you kicked _Carol_ out. I won't stand for it."

Rick stares at me, almost as if he's shocked that these old feelings of hate from the last time I stood accused of murder are returning. Cyndie clears her throat, breaking through the awkward tension in the air. "Whoever it is, when the time comes, they'll get what they deserve."

"Pair up with someone you trust," Rick orders. "We're out there till we find her."

* * *

_**~Anne~**_

I keep my knife and my flashlight up as I enter the heaps, though the only entrance was closed off well enough that no undead should've been able to get in. I make my way over to the hidden filing cabinet, moving away the trash that covered it and opening it. I take out the bundle, unwrapping it to find a walkie talkie.

"It's Jadis," I say into it. I don't immediately get a response, but I know they're listening, that they hear me. "I know you're in range. I saw the helicopter last night."

I glance over my shoulder as metal shifts and creaks around me, but I get an answer from my people. "What do you have?" a man questions. "An A or a B?"

"Was it you? Did you take them?"

"No pickups, but the deal still stands. Will you have an A or a B?"

"Neither," I answer. "It's just me. I've paid my share."

"You've been compensated."

I sigh. "What will it take?"

"An A. Tomorrow."

I spin, raising my gun, upon realizing that I'm not alone in the heaps. _Gabriel._ He must've followed me. He raises his hands in surrender, asking, "Who were you talking to?"

"You followed me?" I demand, slowly and hesitantly lowering my gun as he makes his way closer.

"Were they right? Did you do something to Justin?" I shake my head. "Then who were you talking to?"

I can't answer that. He can't know.

"What did you do?" Gabriel continues.

"Bad things," I answer after a moment. "But not this."

"I stood for you. I care about you. Tell me the truth. Answer my questions."

"Okay," I agree, nodding.

"You traded people, yes?" I nod. "That's what you were gonna do with me, with Rick."

"Yes."

"Why?"

It's a simple question that I know the answer to, but it still pains me to say it aloud, especially with how my feelings for Gabriel have changed since then. "For supplies, for my people. It didn't start that way. It just ended up there."

"I don't know what the hell that means."

"I tried," I continue. "You saw I tried at Alexandria. But the first thing that goes wrong, and they suspect me. Rick suspects me. And when those Saviors came, everyone stood by. Everyone but Clary, but she moved only to defend a _Savior._ No one moved to defend me, except for you. Gabriel, leave with me."

"What?" he questions. "And go where?"

"There's another place. It's far from here, but if we go together, we can get there. It can be different for us." I offer him my hand, and he takes it, considering agreeing. "There's only one thing. You can't tell anyone. But if you can trust me and help me with one small part of the deal, we can have a life like you can't imagine."

"Whatever this is, I can't do it," Gabriel decides, dropping my hand. "I have to tell Rick."

"You can't choose me instead?"

"Not like this."

I nod, sighing softly. "And all this time, I thought you were a B."

I hit him with the handle of my gun, knocking him out. I have my A, my ticket out of this place. I look at Gabriel, having wanted him to come with me but not like this. As long as my people come with the helicopter before he wakes, I'll be able to leave with no regrets.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Maggie leads the way through our section of the search grid, Daryl taking the rear as I follow a few steps behind Maggie. He questions, "You good with this? Or are you just playing nice for Rick?"

"I take it you're talking to me," Maggie says, glancing over her shoulder at us, "'cause Clary definitely isn't playing nice."

"Would you play nice if he accused you of murder?" I retort, which Maggie answers with a shake of her head. "So, are you? Are you good or are you playing nice?"

"I'm not sure," she admits.

"Yeah, me neither," Daryl replies.

"Part of me wishes I could see things his way, look forward and not back. Every time I look at Hershel, I think about how things could've been. And I can't let that go."

"You don't have to. I haven't."

Maggie sighs, stopping to face us. "What Rick's doing is right for the future. It's better for Hershel."

"But that doesn't change the past," I argue. "Rick's dream of tomorrow doesn't change—"

Daryl pushes himself to the front, crossbow raised, when the growls reach us. Maggie draws her knife as I raise my crossbow, our trio moving in search of the walker. It's just one, crawling on the ground with the lower half of one of its legs missing. "I'll get it," Maggie volunteers.

She kills it with ease, Daryl lowering his crossbow as he kneels next to a walker that had already been killed before we got here. Daryl straightens, a bolt that doesn't belong to one of our crossbows in his hand. He says, "I know who took Arat."

"And you waited until just now to say something?" I question.

"I had my suspicions, but now I know for sure. Come on."

* * *

"How'd you know about this place?" I question, glancing over at Maggie as we near the school.

"I think it's where they lived before," Maggie answers. "It's what I'd do. Bring them back here, to where it all happened."

I know we're definitely in the right spot when I pick up on voices just around the corner. Cyndie says, "Beg like you made them beg."

"Drop it!" Daryl orders, his crossbow raised. Arat's on her knees in front of a handful of Oceanside residents, Cyndie pressing her gun against the back of Arat's head.

Beatrice immediately raises her harpoon in response, aimed at Daryl. I rush, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey. Easy, everyone."

Daryl questions, "You take out Justin with that thing?"

"He killed my husband," Beatrice answers.

"Daryl, put it down," I tell him, but he's already in the process of lowering his weapon. Beatrice slowly follows with hers, and I toss her the bolt we found. "Don't leave the murder weapon lying around next time."

"Please," Arat tries. "Daryl, please."

"They got a reason?" Daryl questions.

"We've all done things."

"People will find out," Maggie says.

I swallow before asking, "Is Alden… is he next?"

"She's the last one," Cyndie says, gesturing to Arat. "After this, it's over."

"Maybe for you," Maggie says. "But for everyone else, it won't be. With something like this, it keeps going."

"This was our _home_," Cyndie says. "My mother and my grandmother found this place for the group. There were so many of us then. Men and women, kids. My mom and I built a garden. My brother and I used to play right here. But then the Saviors came, and Simon wanted what we had. He gave us our final warning. Afterward, we ran. And we tried to forget. But then your people came, and they asked us to fight. We did because we couldn't forget. After Rick ended it, we went along because we didn't think we had a choice.

Cyndie faces Maggie. "Until you hung Gregory. That's when we knew. Rick's rules aren't the only rules. You showed us the way. It was time."

"You did this… because of me?" Maggie questions.

Tears roll down Cyndie's cheeks as she recalls the event that caused her people to flee the school. "They murdered my mother. She shot my brother _right here_. And they took everything because they could."

"Please," Arat begs, crying as she pleads to Daryl. "It's not like that anymore, okay? I'm one of you now." Arat turns to me. "I've changed, Clary. I'm one of you like Alden is."

"Don't invoke his name," I warn. Alden had never been accused of killing a kid like Arat is now; she doesn't have the right to compare herself to him.

"Did you do it?" Maggie questions.

"Simon would've killed me, too!" Arat exclaims.

"You asked me to beg for his life!" Cyndie accuses. "He was crying, and you smiled! I told you I love him! I need him!" I reach beside me, clutching Daryl's hand. I have lost brothers and it hurts, but Daryl is the brother that I need most of all. "He was only eleven years old!"

"How could you live with killing a child?" I question. "What kind of a monster does that?"

"And what did you say?" Cyndie continues.

"I don't remember," Arat says.

"Say it!"

"Please!" the Savior sobs.

"What did you say?" Maggie questions.

Arat sniffles. "No exceptions."

The three of us go silent, my hand resting on my cheek where Glenn's blood painted me when Negan swung that god awful bat after saying the same goddamn thing. Above my head, Maggie and Daryl share a knowing look, Daryl squeezing my hand tighter.

"Arat's right, Cyndie," I say as Maggie and Daryl turn away. "No exceptions."

As I turn away, I know I've sealed Arat's fate. Arat, who killed Olivia and tried to kill me, who threatened my fathers, who hurt Rosita. Who killed children.

I catch up with Daryl, taking his hand as Arat pleads for her life behind us. They'll find her body the next morning, I know; and the remaining Saviors will walk off the job.

I start to wonder if it's destined that this bridge will never be rebuilt, after all that's been sacrificed in the process of rebuilding it. The little trust between Rick and I that had taken years to rebuild following my exile and then slowly decreased following the incident at the dive bar had disappeared completely as he accused me of murdering the Saviors. Aaron lost his arm and nearly lost his life. Everyone sacrificed something to try to rebuild this bridge, and at this rate, I don't think it'll ever be rebuilt.

"Cyndie said I showed them the way," Maggie says as we walk back towards camp. "Now, Cyndie's doing the same for me. We gave Rick's way a chance."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I question.

"Well, it's up to you two as well. You have a say." I look up at Daryl, and he makes the decision for both of us, nodding once at Maggie. "It's time to see Negan."


	6. Jus in Bello

**V: Jus in Bello**

_**~Clary~**_

I stand opposite of Maggie as she slides a crowbar into her backpack, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Marco isn't listening as I ask her, "You ready for this?"

"I've been ready since the night they died," Maggie replies. "It's time. We have to do it now."

"Alright," I agree. "It's your show, Mags. I'll follow you."

"Maggie!" Jesus calls as he approaches. When he catches sight of me with her, he quickens his pace to a jog, hurrying over to hug me. "I heard what happened to Aaron. Are you okay?"

"His heart's still beating, so I'm as okay as I can be," I reply.

Jesus pulls away, looking between Maggie and I. "I didn't realize you two were back from camp."

"We just came in this morning," Maggie tells him.

"Another letter from Georgie came in." He digs the paper out of his pocket, extending it for Maggie to take. "I was gonna put it on your desk, but here you are."

"Will you put it in the drawer with the others for me? I'll read it later."

Jesus nods, putting the letter back in his pocket. "You're heading back already?"

"Just came to pick up a few things."

"That crowbar being one of them?"

"You've done a good job of taking care of things here. I'm gonna need you to keep doing that." Maggie turns to me. "Ready?"

"Let's chew up some asphalt," I reply, slinging my crossbow onto my shoulder.

"You're not going back to camp," Jesus says as it dawns on his, following us as we head to where Dianne's waiting with our horses.

"We're gonna make things right," Maggie tells him. "Like we talked about."

"Like you did with Gregory. Only we never talked about that."

Maggie stops walking, turning to face our right hand man. "I'm not asking you to agree with us."

"There was a time when I did."

"You don't agree with me anymore?" I ask, heartbroken. "Paul, you're my right hand. I _need_ you at my side."

"I'm still your right hand, but I don't agree with this. The war's over, Clary. Negan deserved to die when it ended. Rick was wrong because he made a call that wasn't his to make. I just want to be sure that you and Maggie aren't wrong in the same way he was."

"If there's one thing that I'll _never_ do, it's make a call that's not mine to make. Because I've been on the other end of that decision. I'm not making this call, Maggie is, and I'm agreeing with her because she has _every right_ to make this call."

Jesus sighs softly, turning to Maggie. "I want you to be sure."

"Maggie, Clary!" Dianne calls. "You two ready?"

"Yeah," Maggie answers, glancing over her shoulder at Dianne before turning back to Jesus. "We'll be back when it's done."

With that, she walks off, and Jesus turns to me. "You said you weren't going on any more suicide missions to kill Negan."

"This isn't a suicide mission, Paul. This is a self-preservation mission. Negan… he knows _things."_ Jesus closes his eyes, looking down, because we both know what I'm referring to. "Paul, that deal… if he's still alive—if someone that I can't trust is still alive, knowing my secrets, I'm in danger. I have to make it right."

"I don't want you in danger," Jesus says softly. "You know I don't. But I can't let you make a decision that you'll regret. I need you to be _sure._"

"I am, Paul. I'm scared, but I'm sure. I'll see you when this is all over."

I pick up the ring that he still wears around his neck, staring at it for a moment. I kiss it like I did when it was mine, then let it fall against Jesus's chest. He whispers, "Don't do this, poppet. Please. I don't want to lose you."

I look up at him sadly, knowing that if this thing turns out like my dream, then I won't ever see him again. I stand on my tiptoes, kissing his cheek. "I love you."

* * *

_**~Jesus~**_

I've known Clary long enough to know that she doesn't just tell people she loves them out of the blue. She tells them if she thinks that she's going to die doing something, if she's going on a suicide mission.

Even if she claims it's a self-preservation mission.

I've also known Clary long enough to know that she's not interested in self-preservation.

I once said that I had to talk my best friend out of a suicide mission, but Clary had already taken off before I could find her to talk her down off the ledge. And now, I watch Clary, Maggie, and Dianne ride off into the distance. I watch my best friend ride off on another suicide mission.

I know what I have to do.

I don't care that she's sure about what it is she's doing. I care about her staying alive, and I'm willing to do what it takes to keep her alive by any means necessary.

And I mean _any._

Even if it means contacting Rick, who I've had a hand in conspiring against. Even though I know that she's terrified of him, I know he's the only one that can put a stop to this.

I know what I have to do, even if it means going behind Clary's back to save her.

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

I pause momentarily from slicing my apple with my "goddamn Rambo knife," Clary calls so eloquently calls it, watching Jerry as he arrives at camp. Rick emerges from his tent, Jerry telling him, "I've got something for you, jefe."

"What is it?" Rick inquires.

"Maggie and Clary are running down to Alexandria. Jesus thought you should know pronto."

"When did they leave?"

"Dunno. Call just came in from Hilltop Relay."

"Did he say anything else?"

"Just that you'd know what it means. Sorry man, that's all I got."

"No, no, it's alright. Thanks, Jerry." He dismisses the hand of the King with a wave of his hand, grabbing his walkie from his belt. "Alexandria Relay One, this is Rick Grimes. Come in please."

"Go for AR One," a female replies. Rachel, I think. Maggie had gotten her to switch with Rosita today.

"AR One, I need you to get an urgent message to Alexandria. If Maggie Rhee and Clary Dixon show up, delay them at the gate and alert Michonne right away. Do _not_, I repeat, do not let them in without an escort. Over."

"Copy that, Rick, We'll relay your message right now. Over."

"And Maggie, if you're listening, let's talk."

"Hey, what's going on?" I question, sheathing my knife as I walk over to meet Rick.

Rick sighs. "Maggie and your sister are heading to Alexandria. I think they're about to do something they might regret."

"Hop on," I tell him, walking over to my bike. "I'll take you."

"You got enough fuel?"

"Yeah. Plus, we'll get there faster."

Rick climbs on behind me, holding onto the seat as I drive. I come to an intersection where a right turn would take us on the quickest route to Alexandria, but I continue straight.

"That was the turn back there!" Rick tells me over the roar of the engine. "Pull over." I don't stop. "Hey! Pull over!"

The bike screeches to a halt, Rick jumping off one side while I jump off the other. I let my motorcycle fall between us, the engine sputtering out as I switch off the ignition. Rick demands, "What is this?"

"You know exactly what this is," I accuse.

"I already called it in. Maggie and Clary aren't making it through those gates."

"It was a nice try, Rick, but that message ain't goin' through."

"You messed with the relay?"

"This time, man, it's gonna go the way it was supposed to."

Rick grabs for his walkie at his belt, but I knock it out of his hands, shoving him back. Rick falls through the foliage at the side of the road, dragging me with him as he goes tumbling down the hill. As the ground disappears beneath me, I know everything's gone to shit. The only thought that runs through my mind as I fall is, _Shit, not again._

"Fuck," I groan as I push myself up from the dirt floor of the pit we've fallen into.

Rick pushes himself to his feet, looking around before deciding, "These roots, they're the only way we're getting out."

"Too high up, though," I argue. Rick runs and jumps at one hanging lower than the others, but it breaks off, sending Rick back down to the ground.

"Goddammit," Rick groans. "You set this up, too?"

"Yes, Rick. I obviously came out here and dug a huge ass hole in the fucking ground and then let myself fall into it _just_ to keep you from Alexandria. The hell do you think? Are you really laying this on me? You're the one that had to go chasin' after 'em. Couldn't just let things be, huh?"

"You know what keeping Negan alive means to us."

"I know what seein' him dead means to her."

"Daryl, I get why she can't accept it. I do."

"Oh, yeah, do you?"

"Her never coming to Alexandria? Hanging Gregory the way she did? I know. I'm not blind."

"Well, you sure as hell been actin' like it. Man, your ass wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for Glenn. You wouldn't've found Lori, you wouldn't've found Carl, and you sure as fuck wouldn't've found any of us. He did that. Or did you forget?"

"Of course not. I think about it every damn day. And Maggie, I hate what I did to her, what I took from her, but it's what I had to do."

"She's doing what she has to do."

"What, you're okay with that?"

"Why the hell wouldn't I be?!" I shout.

"You spared _Dwight_," Rick accuses, "after what he did to Denise, to Clary, to you."

"He saved Clary's life," I snap. "Yeah, he kept me locked in a closet, paraded me around and I couldn't say a damn thing. For that, I'd kill him, but I exiled him instead because of what he did for my baby sister. She risked herself further after _you_ had already put her in danger to try to get information, to help us. Dwight saved her from that fucking nutjob Simon! He got her back here, and because Clary's more important to me than even well-deserved revenge, I spared him. Negan ain't shit, and you're keeping him in that cell like some kinda damn symbol to all them assholes who can't wait to see shit go back to the way it was!"

"Keeping him alive is how we make sure it won't!" Rick shouts.

"No, keepin' him alive is givin' 'em hope that it will."

"Michonne talked to Maggie. She came to camp. She was coming around."

"Yeah, well, she was trying. Truth is, she just couldn't live with it. Just like Oceanside."

"Oceanside?" Rick repeats. "You sayin' Oceanside killed those Saviors? Justin, Arat?"

"I'm sayin' they got what they deserved."

"You knew, and you didn't say anything?"

"Truth is, I couldn't live with it either."

"If this doesn't work, if she kills Negan, he becomes a martyr. The war was for nothing. Every person who died, died for nothi—"

"What the fuck did Eric die for?!" I shout.

"If they kill Negan, then Carl died for _nothing!"_

"Carl _is_ the martyr!" I return. "You've heard Clary say it. Carl was the martyr of our revolution. And what about the rest of us? You think after all the shit we've been through, we couldn't handle it? Man, you keep asking us to have faith in all these other people. Truth is, you don't have enough faith in us."

"That's not true. You know that's not true."

"I'd die for you. And I would've died for Carl. You know that. But you gotta hear me. You're chasin' something for him that ain't meant to be. You just gotta let him go. He's gone, man. Let him go."

"I… I never asked anyone to follow me."

"But maybe you should've."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"You alright?" Maggie questions, glancing over at me as we ride for Alexandria.

"Just thinkin'," I reply. "Daryl's on Rick duty, but… I'm worried. We know what Rick's done in the past to get what he wants, and I know that if Rick finds out what we're doin', he'll want to stop us."

"Even so, he wouldn't hurt Daryl," Maggie assures me. "I don't have much faith in Rick Grimes, but the faith that I do have is that he wouldn't do something to his family. Rick's called Daryl his brother time and time again."

"He called Shane his brother, too. He told me back at the prison that he loved me like a daughter, and not just because I was dating Carl. And you know what Rick did to me."

"He asked me if I could've done it," Maggie tells me. "When he got back that day, and you and Carol weren't with him. I was scared for you, and I couldn't even _begin_ to think of telling Glenn that he'd never see you again. And then Rick asked me if I would've done the same. Like he didn't even realize that you're basically my sister."

I grip Slick's reins tighter, fearing Maggie's answer as I ask, "What did you tell him?"

"I said I didn't know," Maggie answers, "because he wanted to hear that he had done the right thing. I told him that I wouldn't have had the strength to do it, that I knew that much. And I look at you now, Clary, at you three years later, and I see how the memory of that day terrifies you. And every decision that Rick's made since then, everything that he's done, angers me more. Especially what he did that made you go to—"

"_Maggie_," I warn, as Dianne doesn't know my secret.

"Neither of us got the outcome we wanted," Maggie says, more careful now. "So we're making it right." We slow our horses to a stop as a walker stumbles towards us on the road. Maggie offers Dianne her reins. "Hold those for a second?"

"You got it," she replies. Dianne takes the reins, making sure Maggie's horse doesn't take off while she digs the crowbar out of her bag. She slides down off her horse, smacking the walker in the head with the crowbar. It goes down, but it continues growling, still undead. She hits it again, and the growling stops.

Then she bashes it again. And again. And again.

"Shit," I hiss, jumping off of Slick. I rush to Maggie's side, catching her arm as she begins her next descent. "Maggie. It's dead."

"Right," Maggie says after a moment, wiping the walker blood off on its clothes. "Let's just go."

* * *

_**~Carol~**_

The Saviors think they're sneaky. They're really not.

I can see them coming through the woods, spreading out and heading for camp. Jerry can't see them from where he stands, so he asks, "Everything okay?"

"Take these trunks and lock them in the medical tent now," I order.

"On it, boss."

"We hurry, we can make it to the Kingdom by nightfall."

Jerry directs two Oceanside girls to help him with the trunks, while Beatrice and Kathy follow me to the edge of camp, meeting the Saviors with our guns drawn. Jed emerges in the lead with a gun of his own, the rest of the Saviors following closely beside him. I question, "Where'd you get the gun, Jed?"

"Alden wasn't as quick as you," Jed replies.

"_Wasn't?" Oh, Clary's definitely going to kill some people._

I glance around, finding the others that have remained at the camp all have their weapons raised as well. I call, "How about we all lower our weapons. Nobody gets hurt today."

"That's right," Jed says. "Listen to the woman. Drop your guns. Party's over."

No one makes a move to lower their guns.

"See, uh, I took the scenic route, but I figured it out," Jed says as he makes his way closer to me. "Oceanside's killing us. So now, being that it's war, they're gonna get what's coming to them."

"Stop it, Jed. You're gonna get everybody killed."

"Excuse me, Carol, you ain't bosslady no more. You're a weak little woman who got in a lucky shot."

_I'm not weak little woman. I'm the Grey-haired Queen Bitch._

"And now," Jed continues, "listen to what I say." Jed cocks his gun, the end of it barely two feet from my face. "Step aside."

I lower my gun, Jed far too stupid and willing to believe that I'm giving in. He steps forward, taking the keys for the trunks of guns from my belt. As he starts to step past me, I kick him in the back of the knee, knocking him down before elbowing him in the back of the head, sending him to the ground. I take my keys back as even more Saviors emerge from the woods, some with weapons, one with a gun.

I shout, "No!"

But a gun already fires.

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

I step away from where I'm working on making a handhole in the dirt wall at a gunshot in the distance. Another one follows, and I can tell where it's coming from based on its echo. "That's back at the camp," I say.

"It's gonna draw those herds," Rick adds. "Tybalt and Cordelia."

"Alright, c'mon," I say. I lace my fingers together, giving Rick a boost to reach one of the higher roots. He grapples for it, but falls. "Alright, we got this. C'mon, again."

I boost Rick again, and he grabs it this time. Walkers come sliding down into the pit, Rick dodging them while I kill them when they land at the bottom. I ask, "You okay?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Shit, there's more coming!" Another falls, and I kill it. Rick tests the root next to him before looking down at me. "Think you can get to this one?"

I nod, stacking the bodies of the walkers that have fallen to give me the boost I need to reach the root. More and more start sliding in, growling and reaching for us from the bottom. Rick's nearly at the top by the time I'm halfway up, pressing myself flat against the dirt walls and avoiding the walkers that slide in.

I reach, trying to find anything to hold onto. The dirt crumbles beneath my fingers, and I slip. I manage to grab the root again before I fall to the walkers, but I'm close enough now that I can feel their dead hands brushing my ankles. I scramble back up, just trying to keep myself out of their reach.

Rick crawls up over the edge, sending dirt down on me as his boots scrape the walls. Its in my eyes and I can hardly see, but I can't let go to wipe it away without falling.

"Daryl, you gotta hurry!" he says.

"I'm hurryin'!" I shoot back. I climb by feeling my way up, pausing for a moment when I'm sure I won't slip to wipe my eyes. The top of the pit is about two feet above me, Rick at the edge.

"Take my hand," Rick tells me, reaching down. "Daryl, take my hand."

_Take your friend Rick's hand._

The dirt doesn't hold, and I grab a handful of it every time I try to pull myself up.

_Kick off them damn high heels and climb._

"Come on!" Rick urges. "You're almost there."

Our fingers brush, but I'm still not close enough to grab his hand.

"Brother," Rick says, "take my hand."

I use the hand I had been trying to grab his with to grab another root, pulling myself up closer to the edge of the pit. In one movement, I push myself up and grab Rick's hand with my other one.

"I've got you."

Rick pulls me up the rest of the way, and we collapse on the ground beside each other. I spot a walker stumbling towards Rick, warning, "Heads up!"

He draws his hatchet, scrambling to his feet and killing the walker. I follow him up, stabbing another walker. We clear a path back to the road, where a white horse, saddled with no rider gallops towards us.

A herd of walkers are right behind it.

"C'mon, let's go," I rush, righting my bike.

"No, hold on," Rick argues. "I'm gonna stay back, lead 'em away from camp."

"What?"

"I'm gonna stay," Rick repeats.

"No!"

"I'm not giving up on it, not yet."

"Take 'em to the bridge," I propose. "It ain't gonna hold. It'll wash 'em out to the sea."

"No! I'm not sacrificing the bridge. I'll find another way."

"There ain't no other way, man!"

"I'm not destroying the bridge. We need it."

"Fine," I agree with a sigh. Rick mounts the white horse while I climb back on my bike. "Hey! Be safe."


	7. The Man Comes Around

**VI: The Man Comes Around**

_**~Rick~**_

_And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder._

There is a noise, somewhere near me. It's loud like thunder, but it's not thunder. I know that much.

_One of the four beasts saying, "Come and see."_

There's another noise, beeping steadily. I turn away from the window, facing myself lying in a hospital bed, a bandage wrapped around my midriff.

"Wake up," I tell myself. "It's time to go."

I look back out the window, at the ravens that had previously been flying around in an unkindness. The ravens have transformed into helicopters, the squadron flying towards the hospital.

"_What is your wound?"_

It's Morgan's voice, emanating from seemingly nowhere. I look down at my hand, pressed against my side, just a few inches below where I was shot. My shirt is soaked in blood, my hand coated red. I pull my hand away, and blood drips.

"Wake up."

It's not me that speaks this time. Well, it is me, but not the me that's standing here, looking at my wound. It's the me that's in the hospital bed, eyes open and wearing a grotesque grin.

"Yeah, wake up, asshole," he says. "Wake up, and come and see."

_And I saw, and behold a white horse._

That goddamn horse is still there. Just across the intersection. If I can make it to him, I can get ahead of the walkers.

The walkers, that are emerging from two roads in the intersection. The two herds, drawn by the gunshots at camp, merging. They were what had caused my horse to throw me in fear.

He threw me right onto a cement block with rebar sticking out of it. The rebar that's impaled me, entering through my back and out my front, just below where I was shot back when the world was still the world.

The walkers are getting closer, and I refuse to die here. I can't, not when they'll converge and destroy the camp, and then they'd be on their way to Hilltop. I have to lead them away. I'm the only one to do it.

I reach up, crying out at moving even an inch with the rebar still through me, trying to pull myself up using the rebar above me. I can't even reach it, blood pouring out of my wound as I move. I have to bandage it to slow the bleeding, but I have to get out of here first. I take my belt off, using it to reach the rebar above me. Screaming, I pull myself off of the rebar that impaled me before collapsing on the ground in front of the cement.

I pull myself forwards, one hand over my wound, blood trailing as I make my way across the intersection. I reach my horse, climbing back on.

"I need to keep 'em safe," I repeat to myself as I lead the walkers away, keeping myself awake. "I need to stay awake. I need to keep 'em safe."

Over and over again, I repeat my mantra.

I spot a mailbox up ahead, signaling a turn-off and a house. If I'm lucky, it'll have something for me to bandage my wound long enough to lead the walkers away and then get to Siddiq in Alexandria. I urge my horse on, every one of his steps sending waves of pain through my body.

We reach a cabin, and I dismount from the white horse, some of his hair colored red with my blood but a white horse nonetheless. I have to get into the cabin from the back, the front door boarded up. I collapse into a chair at the table and bandage my wound. I look around, finding two decayed bodies in the cabin with me, dead by suicide.

Two survivors who just couldn't take it anymore.

Everything goes blurry and I slump in my chair, but when everything is clear again, I'm back on my horse.

I'm in a city now, a city I recognize. I city I haven't been in for nearly two years, where I watched a young girl—an innocent girl—die the last time I was there.

I'm back in Atlanta.

"_What's your wound?"_

"Lori?" I whisper, looking around for her, but I don't see her.

Instead, I see a police cruiser parked in front of me. There's no one in the driver's seat, but there is someone in the passenger seat.

"Goddamn, Cowboy," Shane drawls. "You look like shit."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

We leave Dianne with our horses and the majority of our weapons. Maggie has her crowbar and I have my knife as we march side by side down Alexandria's streets. Although neither of us have been here in a year and a half, we still remember where the cell is.

And Michonne's there, waiting.

She has the audacity to look surprised that we're here, like she couldn't possibly know why we've come.

"Maggie? Clary?" she questions, fake innocence and confusion in her voice.

"Get out of our way," Maggie orders as we start down the steps to the cellar entrance.

"You're willing to turn this into something else?" Michonne continues, and she doesn't fake anything now. No, now she's accusing us, like we're in the wrong. "For him?"

"Not for him," Maggie corrects, "for _me._"

Michonne turns to me. "And you're willing to go along with her?"

"Not for him," I say, purposely echoing Maggie's words so there's no mistaking that I'm with her. "For _us_, and I _don't _mean you, Michonne. For others."

"For Glenn," Maggie says.

"And for Eric," I add.

"Negan should've died under that tree."

"But he didn't die, Maggie," Michonne counters. "It's done."

"Because Rick decided it was?"

"Step back," Michonne warns.

"It wasn't his call to make!" I shout.

"You were there, Michonne," Maggie adds. "You saw what Negan did."

"You think Glenn would want this?" Michonne demands. "You think Eric would want this for you, Clary? For his daughter?"

"Don't you fucking _dare_ say his name," I growl. "He died for _nothing_ because Rick spared Negan. That was the whole fucking point of the war—to kill Negan."

"Is it what they'd want?" Michonne continues. "For you to go through me to get to him?"

"I don't know what they'd want," Maggie says. "I don't know what Glenn would want because I never got to say goodbye."

"He wouldn't want it, Maggie. Your father wouldn't want this. You know this."

"The only thing I had, the _one_ thing I had, was knowing I was gonna see Glenn's murderer die, and you took it from me."

"So taking it back, what the hell is that gonna do?"

"It's gonna start things over."

"No! It's gonna start something else."

"It's gonna make me sleep easier at night," I say. "'Cause it'll be done."

"If he had butchered Rick in front of you instead of Glenn," Maggie says. "If you had a child to raise alone because of him, he would've been dead a _long time ago_ and you know it!"

"If he had killed _Carl_," I hiss, "Negan _never_ would've made it out of that clearing alive, let alone to that tree."

"So stop actin' like this is a choice. Stop acting like it's just something I can turn off, that Clary and I can turn off. Because it has been a year and a half, and we can't."

Michonne sighs. "You're gonna have to find a way."

"So then tell us!" I snap. "Tell us how! Tell us, oh wise and noble Michonne, tell us what else it is that we can do. Because we can't live like this."

Michonne pauses before admitting, "I can't."

"Because there's nothing you can say," Maggie says. "There's only what you do."

"And you can live with what comes after?"

"Gotta, 'cause we can't live with it now."

Maggie extends her hand, and Michonne places the keys in them. Maggie and I share a nod, and Michonne steps out of our way. We enter the basement, Negan chuckling from his spot in the shadows. He rises to meet us, and I can feel his eyes on me. He greets, "My little tiger. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

* * *

_**~Rick~**_

They're getting closer. I know they are. They're getting closer.

_Who's getting closer? _I wonder, looking around. There's no one else in the hall with me. No one's getting closer.

This hall. I know this hall.

Why do I know this hall?

"_What's your wound?"_

I know that voice. I picture the face before I can think of the name. Flaming red hair, a kickass mustache, and balls bigger than any of ours.

_Abraham._

_Is he who's getting closer?_ I ask myself.

No, he's dead. He couldn't be getting closer. Unless he's Death? Perhaps Death is getting closer?

I use the wall for support, my fingers brushing over dried blood dripping from bullet holes. The lights flicker, and once more, I recognize this hall.

I turn on my heel, and all of my questions are answered when I see the doors.

It's the hall from the hospital, the old door making me remember that it's the dead that are right on my ass. It used to say "Don't open, dead inside," but the "don't" has since been crossed out, instructing me to open the doors.

I open the door, a bright light momentarily blinding me just as it did when I exited the hospital. There's dead lying on the ground alright, but instead of in neat rows, countless bodies are piled at my feet.

My eyes adjust to the light, and I turn in circles, carefully avoiding stepping on any bodies. It's like I'm in the middle of a desert, bodies the only thing I can see in any direction, stretching to the horizon.

I pick a direction and walk in it, hoping not to recognize any of the faces below me. But it seems that no matter where I step, it's someone that I knew.

I pass Tyreese first, stepping over the body of one of the people I kicked out of the prison when I was hallucinating Lori. To my left, I spot Jerry, a bite wound on his forearm that normally would've been protected by his armor. The armguard covers the chest of Enid next to him, but even that couldn't save the girl. I continue on, stepping over the bodies of Carol, Michonne, Maggie, and Beth. Rosita lies propped against Eugene.

I pause when I reach Daryl, who lies on his front, his head turned to the side. He still wears the vest he always does, his wings bloody. His arm is outstretched, extended towards another body in his last moments. His fingers fall just short of another hand, reaching towards his. I follow it towards Clary's body. On her opposite side lies Aaron and Eric, hands intertwined in death. Jesus, with a knife stuck in his heart, lies behind her, allowing her head to rest on his stomach, though it's turned to her big brother. I move Daryl just a bit closer, then kneel next to Clary as I place his hand in hers.

As I start to pull back, her opposite hand grabs my wrist. I jerk in surprise, but she doesn't let go. Her eyes are their usual grey rather than the milky white of the dead, so that calms me a bit. She gasps for a breath, then manages to choke out, "You… could've… saved… us, Rick. Why didn't… you... save us?"

Her hand falls limp from mine, dying with her eyes open, staring directly into mine.

_"You failed, Rick Grimes,"_ she says, her voice coming from all around me even though she's dead. _"You failed everyone. You failed as a leader, and most of all, Rick, you failed as a father. All you wanted was to play the king, and we died so you could. You killed us for your crown, but your castle crumbled. Where's your crown now, King Nothing?"_

I scramble back from her body, shaking as she repeats Negan's words and then some. I push myself to my feet, turning when I realize I'm not alone. I'm shocked to find Sasha standing behind me.

I say the first thing that comes to my mind.

"They're all… dead."

"Yeah," Sasha confirms. "I know. And it's okay."

"How can it be okay? How can this be okay?"

"'Cause you did your part."

"I didn't." I gesture down to Clary. "Not according to her."

"You did what you could. Sometimes doing all that you can just isn't enough, so there's nothing you could've done: and that's your part. You did your part, Rick, like I did mine, like the others did before us."

"How?"

"They gave us the strength that we needed to do what we had to do for the others, and the others draw strength from us. We change each other. We help each other. We make each other better. And it never ends."

I shake my head. "It feels like it's ending."

"Little things do end, but it's never the end of everything, because we don't die. It's not about you or me or any one of us. It's about all of us. And I don't think it just evens out. I think it always crosses over toward the good, toward the brave, toward—"

"Toward love," I finish.

Sasha nods, giving me a small smile. "Your family, you're not gonna find them because they're not lost. And you are not lost. What you need to do is wake up."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"My little tiger. I thought you'd forgotten all about me, but here you are, finally comin' around," Negan says. "So, she just gave up the keys, uh? It's a shame. She's got the blade, but you two… you got the fire. My money was on you two, the Orphan and the Widow."

"So you remember me," Maggie says. "Not just Clary."

"Of course I do. It's why I thought you were gonna win."

I let out a small chuckle in response to Negan's vote of confidence, and Maggie orders him, "Get on your knees."

"You know, I remember you screaming in that clearing," Negan says, and he doesn't get on his knees. "I remember how much I broke you breaking your husband's head like I did." Negan looks to me. "And you, I remember you covered in his blood."

"Glenn," I say.

Maggie adds, "His name was Glenn."

"So now what?" Negan questions. "You've finally come for… revenge?"

"Justice," Maggie corrects.

"It's time to burn cheek to cheek, Negan," I say.

"Damn," Negan sighs. "Thought you'd do this a hell of a lot sooner. It take you this long to work up your nerve?"

"I was always gonna settle this," Maggie growls. "What you did to my husband. Get on your knees!"

"What I did to him? You mean how I cracked open his skull and popped out his goddamn eyeball? How I bashed his big, beautiful brains into the ground over and over while you two and his little friends watched? Is that what you mean? I used to say that I didn't enjoy killing. That was a lie. Your old man… Christ, I forgot his name again. But he was different. Killing him the way I did, ooh, now that was fun."

My hand tightens around the hilt of my knife as Maggie slides the keys into the lock. She doesn't turn it, not yet. Inside the cell, Negan gets on his knees.

"Get to it," he orders. "Have your justice. Kill me. It was worth it."

"I want to see you in the light," Maggie says.

"Come on. Kill me." Maggie turns the lock. "You not have it in you? Don't you pussy out like Rick."

"Come into the light," Maggie repeats.

"We want to see you when we kill you," I add.

"Isn't this what you came here for?!" Negan exclaims. "Kill me! I'm right here on my knees! Kill me!

"Move into the light!"

I _never_ thought I would hear Negan cry. But he's crying as he begs, "Kill me."

Maggie rips open the cell door, marching inside. I step aside as she grabs Negan by his collar, throwing him out of the cell and into the light. He cowers against the opposite wall, sobbing.

"Pathetic," I comment with a shake of my head.

"Please, please," Negan continues to beg. "Please kill me."

"Why?" Maggie demands.

"You have to. Just do it."

"Tell us why! Tell me! Why should I?!"

"So I can be with my wife! So I can be with Lucille! I should be dead."

"You son of a bitch," I whisper. He thinks he can opt out the easy way, to die instead of living with the same pain that Maggie and I live with.

"I have to be dead," Negan pleads, staring up at me, "because we both weren't supposed to make it out alive. It's supposed to be you. It has to be you, because I can't do it. I can't do it. I've tried, but I can't. I can't be like this. Please, don't make me stay like this." Negan pushes himself forward, on his knees at my feet. "Please, kill me, tiger. I failed you."

"Shut up," I hiss.

"It didn't work, and I can't keep living like this. Please, settle it. Settle me. Kill me. Please. You told me the day would come. It's here, tiger, it's here."

I turn to Maggie, having no idea how to proceed. We thought of every possible outcome, everything we might have to do to settle the score, but we never counted on Negan begging us to kill him. I sure as hell never counted on Negan crying at my feet because he didn't kill Rick like I asked him to.

Maggie finally says, "We came here to kill Negan, but you're not even Negan anymore. You're just worse than dead."

"We are the hollow men, and we're all widows here," I say, and Maggie meets my eyes. It's her decision in the end as to what we do with Negan, and she gives me a small nod. "So get back in your cell, Negan."

I shove Negan back in his cell as he sobs, Maggie locking the door. "Go," I tell her. "I'll be out in a few."

"Be careful," Maggie tells me. "It's still Negan."

She leaves, and I take a seat, my back against the wall, the cell bars directly to my left. On the other side, Negan has already sat down, curled up against the bars. He sobs, "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"He knew he was a goner," I say. "Carl. He had already been bitten. It was on his stomach, so we couldn't save him. That's why he volunteered that night."

Negan lifts his head. He's stopped crying, though his cheeks are still wet. He questions, "Why are you telling me this?"

"You deserve to know. 's only right, coming from one widow to another. Tell me about Lucille?"

Negan looks down for a moment. "She was the first one. The one from before all this. She got me through life, so I named my bat after her, 'cause that bat got me through this. You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille. She died in the early days… of the things that used to kill us. I would've traded places with her when the chemo stopped helping, but she was already gone. She deserved more than what she got."

"Dyin' ain't so bad, not when you both go together," I say, both Negan's speech and my words eerily familiar. "But when one gets left behind… that's the worst. That's why I wanted to go out with him, 'cause I didn't think I'd be strong enough to go on. I still don't know how I'm going on. I don't know how Maggie does it."

I stop myself, recalling the nightmare I had a little over a month ago. It gives me a sense of deja vú, speaking the same words I said to Negan moments before Rick killed me. I look towards the door, not willing to turn my back and risk Rick sneaking up on me again, half expecting him to walk down those stairs and through that door.

"You keep staring at that door," Negan observes. "What are you waiting for?"

"I've seen this," I respond. "I'm waiting for Rick to come and kill me."

"Clary!" Maggie shouts from outside. "Clary!"

"Shit," I hiss, scrambling to my feet. I rush outside to meet her, questioning, "What's going on?"

"It's Jerry," Dianne tells us. "Something's going down at camp."

"Shit," I mutter. "Alright, saddle up. We gotta get to camp. Let's go!"

* * *

_**~Rick~**_

The damn horse ran off, leaving me to lure a horde of walkers away on foot. I know now that the only way to stop this herd is to sacrifice the bridge, which we've all risked ourselves to build. We risked life and limb, and we lost it, too.

I collapse to my knees at one end of the bridge, the herd still behind me, not even to the bridge yet. They're getting closer, and I don't even know if I can make it to the other side before they get to me. If they do, it won't have been for nothing. I got them to the bridge, after all, and I know it won't support their weight. So even if they kill me, the bridge will collapse and stop them.

"Rick! Rick!"

It's Daryl's voice.

I turn, and from the opposite end of the bridge, everyone's arrived. I see everyone still alive, Daryl in the lead. Behind him is Maggie, Clary right at her side. Carol and Jerry urge everyone else on, coming to my rescue. They all rush past me, taking on the herd.

Michonne's the only one that doesn't, instead kneeling with me.

"It's okay," she assures me, glancing down at my wound. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"No, you take care of them," I tell her, the reality of my wound finally settling in. I don't know how long I have, or if I'll even make it. "I can't."

"You will."

"I can't."

"You will. It's not over. We don't die." I nod, and Michonne cups my face in her hands. "You want to know why I fell in love with you? Because you're a fighter, and you never give up. So fight, Rick. Fight for me. Fight for all of us." Michonne gestures to everyone, turning to watch now that they've taken down the herd. "Fight, please."

"You're my family," I tell her. "I found you."

"You did."

"But this… this isn't real."

"Yes, it is," Michonne insists, leaning forward and pressing a kiss—one last kiss, nothing but a hallucination—to my lips. "Now wake up."

I open my eyes, still on the same spot on the bridge. I'm all alone, except for the walkers that are still coming.

I push myself to my feet again, stumbling down the bridge, blood dripping with each step. I make it to the other side, just past where the part that we built ends. The walkers are on it now, but it's showing no signs of collapsing.

"No, no," I whisper. "It's gonna hold."

I turn away from the bridge, just trying to lead them on. I don't have any other choices. One of the walkers in the lead almost reaches me, its fingers brushing my shoulder before it drops dead, a bolt in its head.

_I'd know those bolts anywhere._

I look around for him, spotting Daryl through a clearing in the trees a few yards from the riverbank. I see the others behind him, the same people that came to rescue me on the bridge. Another walker almost grabs me, but this bolt doesn't come from Daryl.

It comes from behind me.

I turn around, finding Clary on Slick's back, loading her last bolt into her crossbow as Slick carries her closer. She rides past me, not taking more than a second to look at me as she takes on the walkers by herself.

I wouldn't hallucinate them a second time, would I?

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I pull Slick away from the rest of the group, riding for the bridge. They run for the opposite side, Maggie shouting orders to try to turn the herd around. I shake off some leaves as Slick bursts from the foliage on the side of the road, digging my heels into his sides and urging him on.

_Faster, faster, faster. We have to get to the bridge._

I can see Rick, his torso covered in blood with a makeshift bandage wrapped around it. The bandage is soaked with blood, too.

A walker nearly grabs him, and one of my brother's bolts sinks into its head. Rick turns around, searching for him, not even noticing the next walker about to grab him. I grab my crossbow, firing it because I know that Daryl hasn't had enough time to reload.

Rick spins when he realizes the shot came from behind him, eyes widening as he watches me reload my crossbow as I ride. Slick flies past him, and we come to a stop on the bridge, the walkers just a few feet in front of us with Rick behind us. I use my last bolt, firing on another walker. Rick shouts, "Clary!"

I draw my knife, out of bolts.

"Clary!" Rick repeats. "Get back here, now!"

I glance over my shoulder at him as I pull my knife out of a walker's head. He's frantic, a panic in his eyes as the sight of me out here, taking on the walkers. So I ride back to him, my back to the walkers for a moment. He aims his gun at a target down the bridge the second I'm out of his way, and then I remember the dynamite that had been left on it. I try, "Rick, no—"

"Get out of here," Rick tells me.

"This is our fight!"

"You say we don't die alone, but sometimes we gotta."

"I asked Negan to kill you! I was scared of you! I didn't think you could lead! Everyone I cared about was dying, and I blame you! C'mon, Rick, raise your gun on _me!_ Fuck these walkers and fuck this bridge! Come after me for what I did! Come on, man, raise your gun! Do it! _Raise your gun!"_

"You're a goddamn idiot, you know that?" Rick questions, staring up at me. Then, a small smile comes to his lips. "Good luck, dumbass." He glances up towards the sky. "I found them."

And he slaps Slick's rear, causing the horse to gallop forward, carrying me away from the bridge. I stop him, trying to turn him. Before I can turn him around, I watch over my shoulder as Rick fires. I feel the heat from the explosion on my back, and Slick throws me before taking off on his own.

I push myself up, turning and looking back at the bridge that my dad nearly died building. It's all up in flames now, burning walkers plunging into the raging river below.

Rick Grimes is nowhere to be seen.

_And Hell followed with him._


	8. Self-Destruction

**VII: Self-Destruction**

_**~Clary~**_

Even as far back as I am, I can still feel the heat from the flames. I had pushed myself to my knees to look back after the explosion, but now I fall forward on my elbows.

I want to scream.

What was any of this for? Those that we lost building the bridge, the ones we nearly lost. What was it for? What did Rick blow the bridge for? If he had just waited a couple minutes, Maggie could've redirected the herd. What the hell was he thinking? He destroyed it for nothing. I tried to stop him, and I failed.

I push myself up, crawling towards the fire. I see metal glinting under scorched wood, nearly burning my hand as I push it aside. _What the fuck have you done, Rick? _I carefully pick up his signature Python, tucking it in my holster instead.

I can hear Daryl in the near distance, screaming our names. "Clary!" he screams. "Rick!"

I see him tear out the woods, sprinting towards me. He drops to his knees as he reaches me, wrapping his arms around me. Daryl clutches me, shaking with sobs as he buries his face in my shoulder. Daryl cries because deep down, we both know Rick was still his friend—after all our group had been through, friends were what kept us going.

And despite everything that I've gone through with Rick, I don't cry.

"He's gone," I tell him. "Rick's gone."

I remember Merle's death, how Daryl and I sat like this, crying over our lost family and clutching each other. I wrap my arms around my brother, holding him as he cries and waiting for my tears to start, but my eyes are dry. I can hear screaming down in the woods, presumably from Michonne.

"We gotta get outta here," I finally say. "We can't stay here, Darry."

"You're right," Daryl says, nodding. We push ourselves to our feet, and Daryl bursts into tears all over again when he realizes I have Rick's Python. I take his hand, spotting Slick galloping back towards us now. I scoff, shaking my head at him, as I say, "That fucking horse. What an asshole."

I take Slick's reins in one hand, Daryl's hand in the other, as we walk back to meet the others. "Daryl, the herds converged," I say as we walk. "And Jerry said somethin' happened at camp."

"We heard the shots," Daryl explains. "Rick… Rick tried to lead the herd away himself."

We reach the others. Maggie and Carol are supporting Michonne, who looks as though she's about to pass out. I look around, finding everyone that had remained at the camp except for one person. "Jerry," I say. "Where's Alden?"

"I don't know," Jerry admits. I release Daryl, pulling Jerry aside to speak. "Jed came back with the Saviors. He had Alden's gun."

I can feel the fear creeping into my voice as I question, "What do you mean?"

"He said that… that Alden wasn't fast enough. I don't know what that means or if he's even alive."

"Which way did the Saviors come from?"

"They came from the Sanctuary, out of the woods."

I nod. "Alright, thanks, Jerry. I need you to do something else for me." Jerry nods, gesturing for me to continue. "You need to get everyone back to Alexandria."

"What about you?" Jerry questions. "You're not coming?"

Those words get the attention of just about everyone else, all of them turning to me as they question, "What does that mean? Why aren't you coming? Where are you going?"

"Y'all get to Alexandria," I order, cutting them all off as I mount Slick. "I'll be there when I got Alden. I ain't losing him today."

Just as I'm about to take off, Daryl stops me. "Hey," Daryl says, stepping up beside me. "Just… be careful, alright?"

"You got it, kemosabe," I tell him. I take his hand, pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles.

"And take these, too," Daryl adds, passing me a handful of his bolts. I accept them with a nod of thanks, loading one because I already know I'll be needing it.

"Clary!" Marco calls, and I can see in his eyes that he's remembering losing Ken, our friend group dwindling. "Bring him back."

"I ain't coming back if he ain't coming with me," I declare before I'm off. I ride for camp, arriving to find it destroyed. Rick led the herd through here, I realize.

I ride into the woods, heading west towards the Sanctuary, where Jerry said the Saviors had come from. I search for tracks, but I can't find a single damn bootprint belonging to the Saviors because of the walkers. They came through here, trampling everything in their way, chasing a dying man.

My heart starts beating faster and faster. I spin in a circle. I can't pick up a trail. _Alden, where are you? God, please, not Alden. I can't lose him. I can't lose Alden, too. Not today._

I force myself to take deep breaths, trying to get a clear head. "C'mon, focus, focus, focus," I tell myself. "Come on! _Come on!_"

If the Saviors came from the Sanctuary, then maybe all I gotta do to find their tracks is to head west. So I do, ride a bit farther in the direction of the Sanctuary. Sure enough, I find the tracks I had been searching for. I follow the trail in reverse, tracking them, hopefully, back to Alden.

I follow the trail to a clearing, where I can see Alden on his knees in the middle, a few Saviors with him. His hands are tied behind his back, a gag in his mouth. I try not to remember the clearing where Dwight and I had our duel, where he shot me and then Daryl when the fool tried to rescue us.

I grab my crossbow, firing at the Savior closest to Alden. She drops, the bolt protruding from her temple. I throw my knife at the next Savior as I ride into the clearing, and he drops, the knife in his chest. I draw my gun—Rick's gun—but the third Savior is already ahead of me, his gun at Alden's head.

"Wyatt, c'mon, man," I plead, my aim faltering. "I thought you were past this."

"Drop the gun," Wyatt orders, "and I won't kill the Ken doll you're so fond of."

"Wyatt, please!"

"Drop it!" Wyatt shouts. Alden flinches as Wyatt presses the gun into his skull, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Okay, okay," I relent. "I'm gonna dismount, and I'm gonna put my gun on the ground, okay?"

"Don't move!"

"Wyatt, man, you know me," I rush. "You know I ain't gonna do anythin' stupid to risk him!"

Wyatt pauses for a second. The Saviors do know me, they know who I am and what I stand for. And they know what I care about.

"Okay," Wyatt gives in. "Slowly."

I nod, holstering the Python as I dismount. I draw my gun to place it on the ground, and Wyatt shouts, "The whole belt or I kill him!"

"Wyatt, take it easy, man, you've got me," I plead, but I holster my gun once more. "Just let him go." I unbuckle my belt with the holster, bending down and placing it on the ground. "Okay? No gun, my crossbow's on Slick, and my knife is in the head of your friend. I'm completely unarmed. Just take me, Wyatt. You can do whatever you want to me and I won't put up a fight, but you have to let Alden go."

As I speak, I take a few steps forward. Alden makes some sort of noise, words that I can't make out past the gag. Wyatt whips Alden with his pistol, knocking him to the ground. He pulls Alden back to his knees, snapping, "Shut up!"

Alden's swaying on his knees, eyes unfocused. He doesn't look good. He definitely took a licking, probably at the hands of Jed.

"Hey! You got me! Leave him be!" I order, starting forward. "Leave him be!"

A fourth Savior that I didn't see appears from nowhere, wrapping his arms around me and preventing me from moving forward. I recognize him as Kober. He was one of the ones that Jesus spared at the satellite outpost. I always saw the way he watched Alden and I, with disgust that we were even friends. He's always hated me, and he hated Alden for defecting from the Saviors' side and joining me. Kober was too smart to follow Jared when the other prisoners ran back to the Sanctuary, but he was too dumb to pledge his allegiance to us.

Kober taunts, "The hell are you gonna do now, bitch?"

_Well, he fucking asked._

I sink my teeth into Kober's throat, just as I know Rick once did to the Claimer, Joe. I tear into his jugular, warm blood erupting into my mouth. His blood spurts on me as I rip out his throat, turning and spitting his flesh out as Kober's body drops to the ground. Wyatt freezes, too shocked and terrified to move.

I take the knife from the body of the other Savior I killed as I march forward. Wyatt shoves Alden away from him, dropping his gun. He pleads, "Please, no, no! No! Please, just give me a chance!"

"No," I say, shaking my head. "The Orphan doesn't give second chances."

I spin the knife in my hand, driving it into Wyatt's stomach. I jerk the knife upwards, tearing through him. I pull the knife out, stabbing him again and again. Then, as Wyatt starts to fall to his knees, I slit his throat.

I watch him drop to the ground, choking on his own blood. I turn around, putting my knife in the heads of the two Saviors and taking my bolt from the third. Wyatt's dead by the time I'm done, so I put my knife into his head, too. Then, I turn to Alden.

He lies on the forest floor, his hands still tied behind his back. He hasn't moved since Wyatt pushed him.

I run to his side, heart racing as I start to panic at the possibility of losing him. I cut the ties from Alden's wrists and remove his gag. Alden's barely awake, and I'm doing most of the work as I pull him to his knees. He sees me, though, his eyes wide. I can feel the blood running down from my mouth, down my neck and soaking the collar of my shirt. My hands are dripping, red down to my wrists.

"How bad did they hurt you, Alden?" I question, resting my hand on his cheek. My hand is sticky with blood, but neither of us notice. I turn his head, studying the spot where Wyatt had hit him. His dyed blonde hair is wet with blood. "Oh, I gotta get you to Siddiq."

Alden doesn't respond, and I realize it's because he's no longer conscious. I drop my hand from his cheek, leaving a smear of blood, as I grasp his shoulders to stop him from collapsing. "Alden!" I cry as he falls against me. "Alden, hey!"

I don't get a response, and I'm starting to freak out at the thought of how bad this might be. I cradle him in my arms, his head lolling against my shoulder. I beg, "Alden! Alden, please! Please, I can't lose anyone else today! Wake up! Please!" Alden wakes, eyelids fluttering open to reveal glassy brown eyes. "Alden, hey! Stay with me! Please, Alden!"

"What'd you do?" Alden questions.

"What I had to," I tell him. "They woulda killed you or me or both of us." Alden starts to drift again, and I gently tap his cheek. "Alden, hey, look at me. Stay with me. Look at me." He does, and I press my forehead against his. "You're safe, Alden. It's okay. It's okay now."

"What you did," Alden whispers.

"That's the Orphan. I ain't proud of it, but that's who I am. I won't shy from it. C'mon, we gotta go. You gotta work with me, pretty boy."

I get Alden to his feet, supporting most of his weight. The Saviors don't have many weapons, just a few knives between the four of them and the gun Wyatt found, but I collect them nonetheless, dropping them into Slick's saddlebags. I put my belt back on, securing it with one hand and supporting Alden with the other. Alden manages to mount Slick, and I follow him up. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I tell him, "Al, I know it's gonna be hard, but I need you to stay with me, alright?"

"I'll do my best," Alden replies, but his words are slurring. _Yeah, that's not good._

"Alden, hey, hold on tight, alright?" I feel his grip tighten, and I urge Slick on. He carries us through the woods, racing for Alexandria. I burst out of the woods onto the road about a mile and a half from the gate, and I know Alden's unconscious behind me. I hold onto his hands around my waist with one hand, Slick's reins in the other.

A small group of walkers emerges from the woods, three total. They wander onto the road, blocking our path. I slow Slick down, moving to hold the reins and Alden's hands with one hand as I draw Rick's Python with the other. I pull the hammer back, the sound I was so used to coming from Rick seeming strange coming from me as I wield the gun. I fire at two of the walkers, and then I notice something odd.

This last walker isn't behaving like normal walkers. It doesn't turn to me at the gunshots. I wonder if it was deaf before the person that it once was died, and if that's why it doesn't hear the shots. I've seen walkers on the floor beside wheelchairs that can't walk, so I would assume any disabilities they had when they were alive would carry over when they come back. I raise my gun to fire on the last walker, but it clicks. "Dammit," I curse.

I guess I was lucky it even had any ammo at all after Rick was firing on the bridge. I shove the empty revolver in my holster, grabbing one of the knives I took from the Saviors. There's a chip in the blade, so I don't feel so bad about leaving it behind after I throw it, embedding it in the walker's head. I don't stick around to watch the body drop, taking Slick's reins back in my free hand and pushing him on. I barely even slow down as I near Alexandria, shouting, "Open the gates!"

Scott relays the order to someone inside, and they open the gate right as I reach them. I ride in, flying past everyone as I rush to the infirmary, shouting, "Siddiq! Siddiq, help!"

I slow Slick to a stop as we reach the infirmary. I slide off, Alden slumping forward now that I'm no longer supporting his weight. "We heard two shots," Daryl tells me, rushing out of the infirmary first to meet me. "We were worried."

"Walkers," I reply.

Daryl reaches up, helping me get Alden off of my horse. We each take an arm, supporting the blonde between us. "I told Siddiq to get ready," Daryl tells me as we carry Alden onto the porch. "We didn't know how bad it'd be."

Siddiq opens the door for us as we carry Alden in, and he directs, "Put him down on this bed. Clary, what happened to him? Holy shit, Clary, what happened to you?"

"Jed beat him, I think," I answer. "And Wyatt hit him with his gun."

"Jesus Christ, look at me," Daryl says, taking in the blood on me as we step aside to allow Siddiq to look over Alden. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I answer, shaking my head. "I, um… I killed 'em. The Saviors that had Alden."

"Is that what this is?" Daryl questions.

I nod. "It's Kober. Him and Wyatt and two others. Kober had me. I didn't even think about it. I was just… I had to get to Alden."

"I'll go let Maggie know you're back," Daryl says. He presses a kiss to my forehead before leaving, and I look back to Siddiq as he works. Siddiq glances over at me, telling me, "Hey, you know it's gonna be okay, right? Alden will be okay."

"Thank you, Siddiq," I whisper. I step closer, resting my hand on his shoulder. "I'm… I'm sorry, man. For what I've said in the past. You are worth it. Carl thought so. I should've known to trust him."

I know Alden's in good hands with Siddiq and I know there isn't anything I can do right now except wait. I walk out of the infirmary, requesting that Siddiq updates me right away if there's any change.

I can still feel that knife in my stomach as I make my descent, but maybe it's just that this whole day has made me so damn sick. The door creaks as I open it, and I hear Negan say, "I must be special, all these visitors in one d—"

I step into the light, and Negan immediately cuts himself off when he sees the blood around my mouth.

"Holy _fuck_," Negan blurts, then realizes that it's me. "No, Clary. Oh, no."

"It's all over, Negan," I say. I see relief wash over Negan. _Was he worried that I was dead? _"It's all over."

I drop down onto the floor, sitting with my back against the wall. Negan sits beside me as he did earlier, mirroring me as he leans against the wall, the bars separating us. "Rick's dead," I say. I look down at my hands, still covered in blood, before looking to Negan. "He blew up the bridge."

"It's fitting," Negan says.

"The hell does that mean?"

"That bridge, it was never about the future. It was a memorial to the dead."

"Rick once said we were the walking dead."

"I don't mean the people that are still around. I mean the people like Carl, like the ginger and… Glenn? Was that it?" I nod. "It's a monument for the people like your father."

"A monument to your Lucille?" Negan tenses. "I, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that in a bad way. I'm real sorry you lost her, Negan. Believe me when I say that. Believe me, 'cause you know that I know _exactly_ how it feels."

Negan's quiet for a long time before he asks, "How? How did Rick die?"

"In the blast, I think," I answer. "I was up fightin' walkers with him. He made me leave and blew the bridge. We don't got a body. It don't matter, though."

"What, that there isn't a body?"

I nod. "Rick became the villain in the end, killing the innocent. If more people saw who Rick really was…" I pause, closing my eyes, trying to get my thoughts straight. I clear my throat, looking at Negan. "When the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep. No one lights a candle or mourns at all. I refuse to sing a requiem for that _monster_. I did try to get him off the bridge, I admit that, but Rick blew it anyway. I asked you to take him out, Negan, to end the threat. Rick's gone—the threat's gone. I got what I wanted and now I refuse to mourn, but why do I feel _so goddamn guilty?"_

"Because I don't think you truly wanted it."

"But I did!" I insist, turning to face him. "I knew what I wanted when I asked you to kill him! I knew that I had my bad day, Negan. I knew that I was _you_."

"No," Negan argues with a shake of his head. "No, I was wrong, tiger. You could never be me. You could never do what I've done."

* * *

Ever since Arat killed Olivia, the pantry lost its luster. Before, no matter how bare the shelves were, you couldn't help but smile when you went in. It was because of Olivia; she was so warm and loving that she could bring a smile to anyone's face. Now, it's dark, just a line of shelves.

I make my way to the armory first, nodding a small hello to Eugene. I reload the Python, turning when I sense Eugene watching me. His eyes go to the gun in my hands as I slip the sixth bullet in the revolver. "I couldn't leave it," I explain.

"Of course," Eugene says with a nod. "I understand." Eugene goes quiet, a moment of an awkward silence where neither of us know what to say. Eugene clears his throat, gesturing to the Python. "It's a three fifty-seven, right? I'll make sure to keep you stocked up."

"Thank you, Eugene," I say. I holster Rick's gun, clapping Eugene's shoulder as I pass him. I find the can in the back, picking up a brush too. I don't want to do this, but I know I gotta. The others will mourn, even though I don't, and they'll want to remember him the way they remember everyone else. I make my way to the memorial wall.

Just above my head, I can still see traces of Glenn's name. Maggie and Aaron had washed it off after everyone else, myself included, thought that Glenn was dead.

It was repainted again the next row down.

Five rows below Glenn's name is Carl's. I press my fingers to his name, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry, Carl," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, baby. He tried to make that world you dreamed of a reality, but he was too far gone. The only way he could make the world better was by dying, and he did."

I drop my hand from the wall. I feel the others watching me, knowing what's going to come out of the can. Or maybe they're staring at the blood that's still on me. I open it, half a can of black paint left. I dip my brush in it, taking a breath before pressing the tip to the wall.

Directly across from Carl's name, I add it.

_Rick._

I look over my shoulder at the graveyard.

_They don't even have a body to bury._

That's the worst part, not having something to bury or the chance to bury them. A year and a half later, and my heart still aches each time I think of the father I lost. We didn't get to bury him. Hell, we didn't even get to say goodbye. Those are the worst goodbyes, I've decided. The ones where you don't even have a chance to say goodbye.

I return the paint and the brush to the pantry before heading back to the infirmary. Siddiq's washing Alden's blood off of his hands when I enter, Alden still unconscious in a room down the hall. It's the same room Carl laid in nearly two years ago.

Siddiq turns to look when he hears the door opening, saying, "Clary."

"Hi," I reply. "I, uh, I know you said you'd update me, but I don't want to be out there."

"Of course," Siddiq says with a nod. "Come on in." Siddiq pats the table to his left. "Sit up here."

I push myself up onto the table, my legs dangling. As Siddiq fills a bowl with water, I look at myself in the mirror in front of the sink. My face and neck are covered in blood, though there's streaks of clean skin on my cheeks, as though the blood had washed off. _It did wash off,_ I realize. _It washed off because I was crying for Alden, thinking I was going to lose him. I didn't even know I was crying._

Siddiq glances up, meeting my eyes for a second in the mirror. He turns away, carrying the bowl of water and a cloth as he moves to stand in front of me. "You said Kober had you," Siddiq recalls, taking one of my hands and beginning to wash the blood off. "Did he hurt you?"

"I might have a bruise, but no," I answer. "_He_ didn't hurt _me."_

"All this blood…"

"It's his. Well, mostly. On my face, I guess. I think it's Wyatt that's on my hands. Something… something inside me snapped. I know that what I did… I know it wasn't human."

Siddiq shakes his head as he moves to my other hand. "You look like one of the dead. What'd you do, eat someone?"

"Kind of," I answer. "Jugulars taste like raw chicken, in case you wanted to know."

"Oh, that's gross."

"Dude, you're a doctor."

"I don't rip my patients' throats out with my teeth, Clary," Siddiq retorts, moving to my face. "Enid!"

Enid leans down the stairs, asking, "Yeah?"

"Could you find Clary another shirt?"

"On it," Enid responds. She returns not long after, one of her shirts in hand. Siddiq passes the cloth over to me to get the rest, stepping back so I can go change. Enid follows me into the room, leaning back against the wall. She tells me, "You keep saying you owe me. You don't. You know that, right?"

"E, you saved my dad time and time again," I tell her. "I can't lose him. It's because of you that I won't. And I'd hug you right now, but..."

Enid lets out a small laugh as I gesture to my bloody clothing. I pull off my jacket, peeling the shirt, heavy with blood, off of myself. I've accepted my scars, still somewhat self-conscious but no longer truly ashamed when people see them. I scrub the blood off of myself, the cloth turning red. Enid blurts, "Holy shit."

I look over my shoulder at her, and Enid immediately apologizes, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

"Don't worry about it, E," I tell her. "Oh, I know that look. It's alright. Ask away. I know you want to."

"What happened?"

"Today or my scars?"

"The scars."

"They came from before," I answer. "Well, most of 'em. Three are from this man that called himself the Governor. He's the one that killed my brother Merle, my friends Jesse and Andrea, and Maggie's dad, Hershel."

"How are they from him?"

"He tortured me into giving him information about the prison. I never broke until he threatened to kill Glenn."

"What about the other ones?" Enid questions. "The round ones?"

"This one's from my own bolt. Not fun." I point to the one on my stomach, then the one on my shoulder. "That's from Dwight. Most of my other scars are bullet grazes."

"What does your tattoo mean? The JSS, is it 'just sur—'"

"Jesse, Sam, Sophia," I interrupt. I'd answer whatever questions she had about my scars, but not about them. "I may as well have killed them myself, and I remind myself of that every single day." I look down as I pull my shirt on, not meeting Enid's eyes. "There are some days I can't even look at that tattoo because of the weight it carries. Because of the guilt I carry. I can't carry the weight of losing anyone else, especially Alden, so if you need me, I'll be with him."

* * *

I haven't left Alden all night. Rosita and Tara swung by earlier, playing good cop bad cop. Tara brought me dinner, despite my lack of appetite, after Rosita tried (and failed) to force me to leave Alden to come to eat dinner with everyone else.

I pull my chair closer to Alden's bedside. I pet his hair, avoiding the place where Wyatt hit him. I stop for a moment, and Alden makes a sound of discontent with his unconscious mind. I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Please, wake up," I whisper, resting my forehead against his. "I need to know you'll be okay."

I pull away, going back to stroking Alden's hair. "Please, Alden," I beg. "Please, show me a sign. Wake up. I _need_ you to wake up, pretty boy. I need you to come back to me. I can't do this without you. If you're not here, I'll destroy myself." I bow my head. "I've already started to just because I thought I was gonna lose everything."

"You won't," Aaron assures me. I lift my head to find him standing in the doorway. When he was well enough to move, Siddiq had him come to Alexandria to watch over him while he healed. I haven't seen him for almost a week. He looks good; his color has returned and he can stand without swaying.

My eyes are drawn to the pinned up sleeve on his left.

Aaron glances down at it, then back at me. "I can still feel it, a little," he admits. "Even though it's not there."

"Hershel said the same thing," I recall. "A phantom limb."

"I'd rather have a phantom limb rather than a phantom body."

"Oh, Dad," I breathe. I leave Alden's side, wrapping my arms around Aaron's waist. I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heart. "I love you, Daddy."

Aaron wraps his remaining arm around me, pressing his nose into my hair. He murmurs, "I love you, too, sweetheart."

"I don't want to lose you. I'm not ready."

"Hearts still beating, remember?"

Aaron gives me a small smile when I look up at him, kissing my temple. I lean into Aaron, looking back at Alden. "I'm scared, Dad. What if he doesn't wake up?"

"He will," Aaron assures me. "This will work. After everything, it has to work."

* * *

Aaron stayed for a while, up until he could hardly keep his eyes open. I sent him to bed, staying with Alden. I glance at the clock on the wall, which tells me that it's almost three in the morning. Siddiq steps in the room, leaning against the wall. He says, "You should get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when he's awake," I reply, gently brushing Alden's hair back.

"Clary, I said he'll be okay, but you know that there's always the chance that he wo—"

"Don't," I say, looking at him over my shoulder. "Please don't, Siddiq."

"Get some rest," Siddiq says before leaving. I turn back to Alden, noticing a change in his breathing. I find myself wondering, _Is he… is he awake?_

His eyes remain closed, but the change is still present. I lean forward, and I feel him stiffen at first in surprise before relaxing. I kiss his temple again, pausing when I start to pull back to whisper, "Faker."

I pull back, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Alden slowly opens his eyes, and I brush his hair out of his eyes, smiling down at him. "Hi," I say with a relieved laugh.

"Hey," he replies, the corner of his mouth quirking up to smile at me. I feel tears coming to my eyes as I take his hand in one of mine. I see worry cross Alden's face as he says, "Hey, hey, Clary. Hey, don't cry." He reaches up, wiping my eyes. "Oh, don't cry."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I rest my other hand on his cheek, the same place I had left a bloody print hours earlier. I stroke his cheek with my thumb, telling him, "I'm so glad you're okay."

I pull my hand from his, cupping his face as I lean down, pressing a kiss to his lips. I pull back almost immediately, rushing, "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I don't know what that was."

"It's alright," Alden replies. "Are you okay?"

"Rick's gone," I tell him. "I think he knew he was a goner when he pulled the trigger. He blew up the bridge, Alden. Everything we worked for, everything we sacrificed for, all of it went up in flames. He took out the herd, and he died in the process. If he had just waited a few minutes more… we could've redirected it. Everyone was there, all trying to save him. I rode up to the bridge to fight, and afterward, when I got back, I saw everyone but you. I was _so_ scared, Alden."

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Jerry," I answer. "Jerry gave me an idea of where to look and I just tracked the Saviors back to you."

"I tried to stop 'em," Alden tells me, sitting up and ignoring me when I tried to push him back down. "Carol had sent me to take 'em back to Sanctuary, but I wanted to try talking them into going back to the bridge. I had to believe we could still finish it, but when I saw them in the woods, heading towards camp, I knew they weren't going to the bridge to help. I tried to stop them from marching on camp."

"You're so stupid, Alden. What the hell were you thinking?! You had me worried sick!"

"Well, if I had known getting kidnapped would've gotten your attention," Alden returns, "I would've done it a lot sooner."

"Alden."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Just… stay alive. Please."

"Thank you," Alden says. "You rode in like freakin' Zorro and saved me. I thought Kober and Wyatt had changed, Kober especially after we were at Maggie's mercy. I didn't… I didn't think it was possible to… do what you did."

"Rick did it once," I tell him. "He rubbed off on me in ways that aren't so good, Al. Negan always told me I was one bad day away from being him, but… I'm becoming more and more like Rick. That's a hell of a lot worse hole to fall down, and I am falling down that rabbit hole and fast."

"Clary…"

"I tried to get better, Alden, but I just can't! I'm destroying myself and there's not a damn thing anyone can do! Not Daryl, not Jesus, not Aaron, not even you, Alden! Because for me, my destiny is to destroy _everything._ I'm the Orphan! She's my fate, and there's no escaping it. I kill and I can't stop! Every day that goes by, I'm killing myself more and more and soon, there won't be anything left. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, no matter who I save… self-destruction is my answer."

"Clary, just stop!" Alden barks.

"There isn't anything anyone can do," I continue. "Nothing can stop me from destroying myself. I _am_ the Orphan."

"No, you're not," Alden insists, taking my hands as he shakes his head. "You say you're destroying yourself, you say there's nothing that can be done; but you know what? I'm calling bullshit, 'cause I'm gonna do something." I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, when Alden rests on hand on my cheek. "I can't watch you do this. You're the last rose of summer." He presses his forehead against mine, vowing, "I won't let you destroy yourself. You were my redemption, and I'll be yours. Self-destruction is _not_ our answer."

* * *

_**~Alden~**_

Clary looks more peaceful than I've ever seen her, long black eyelashes brushing her cheek, raven hair fanned out on the pillow. She went to get Siddiq after I woke up, though I know she was hesitant to even leave the room. Siddiq looked over my wounds, ordered me to take it easy and rest, and then ordered Clary to get some sleep before leaving.

After having spent the majority of the day unconscious, I didn't feel like going back to sleep, so I stayed up. Clary, on the other hand, was completely exhausted. She collapsed into the bed beside me, not willing to leave me alone after the day we had. She sleeps with her back to me, but beside me nonetheless.

I look down at her, raising my hand and hesitantly placing it against her head. When she doesn't stir, I begin gently stroking her hair. I pull my hand back and freeze when Clary makes a sound. She flips to her other side, facing me now. I don't move, not wanting to wake her.

Clary wraps her arm around my hips, holding on tighter as she shuffles closer. I lower my hand again, this time resting on her back as she sleeps. Clary doesn't stir, dead to the world.

"Clary, I…" I begin, my voice a whisper so I don't wake her. "I…" I sigh, getting my thoughts in order before trying again. "Thank you, Clary, for what you did for me today. I know it's what you've been trying _so hard_ to avoid, doing everything in your power not to kill. And I know what it's been doing to you, the guilt of the lives that you have taken. I understand exactly what it means, you taking on more of that guilt by saving me. I thank you for carrying that guilt, and I apologize for being the reason that you are."

I look down at her, just taking in her features. My eyes keep coming back to her lips, parted just slightly as she takes in a breath of air. I reach up, touching my own lips as I remember how soft hers were on mine. I could easily find myself lost in imagining her kissing me again, even though I know that she probably will never kiss me again. It was a heat of the moment type thing, right?

Maybe for her it was.

I can't tear my eyes away from her lips, wanting so badly for her to be mine. But I know what she lost, the toll that it has taken on her. I know that she's Atlas, the weight of this world constantly on her shoulders. I know that what she did for me today increased that weight tenfold, but she took it willingly.

For that, I'll never be able to truly thank her. For that, I'll forever be in her debt.

For that, I'll… I'll…

"I'll love you," I whisper. "I think I'm in love with you, Clary. You've saved me, time and time again. We _are_ each other's redemption. We _need_ each other. I love you."


	9. Sympathy for the Devil

**VIII: Sympathy for the Devil**

_**~Clary~**_

"Daddy, I'll be fine," I try yet again, still trying to talk Aaron into letting me go on a run while he returns to Hilltop following our trip to Alexandria. We had started serving as a sort of ambassador, representing Hilltop within Alexandria's walls. "You go back to Gracie. I want to do this run. It'll help all of us."

"Not alone, you're not," Aaron argues. "If you want to go, I'll go with you."

My eyes drift to the sleeve that hangs loose over what remains of his left arm. It's been a little over four months since he lost it, but he has yet to go on any runs. "I don't want to risk you. Dad, I'll find someone here that can go on a run with me. I swear, it'll be okay."

Aaron sighs softly, knowing I won't back down. "Be careful."

"I will be," I promise.

"The snows are coming."

"Yeah, yeah. 'Winter is coming.'"

"Cheyenne, this is serious. I don't want you to get stuck out there in a storm."

"Snows never come this early. I'll be fine."

"Cheyenne."

"Alright, fine. In the _off chance_ that I do get caught up in one, I'll make sure I'm prepared. Don't worry, I'll be back at Hilltop in a week. Give the others my love."

"Be careful," Aaron repeats. He quickly gathers his belongings, packing them into his horse's saddlebags as we approach the gate. He presses a kiss to my temple as he always does, telling me, "A week. Any longer, and I'll be sending a pissed off Maggie after you."

I chuckle, knowing that he isn't joking. Maggie would ride to Alexandria, full of fury, if I wasn't back home, safe and sound, in a week. "Ride safe, Daddy."

Aaron mounts his horse, and I wave him off as he rides out of Alexandria. The gates close behind him, and I look around, wondering who I could take on the run with me. I hadn't told Aaron, not wanting to worry him further, but I know it'll be dangerous. I want to scavenge near the city and work my way into the country, away from where we had scavenged in the past. I have no clue if the roads are even accessible, let alone if they're infested with the dead. I don't want to risk anyone, really, but I promised Aaron I'd take someone with me.

I make my way towards Michonne's house—Michonne, who I still can't believe is pregnant with Rick's baby. I pause by the stairs, happening to glance down at the barred window that provides Negan a view of the outside world. "Huh," I mutter to myself as I get an idea. "Yeah, that'd work."

I haven't gotten a chance to further speak to Negan about the agreement that we made the day before the war ended, worried that Alexandrians might be listening. _And if he did die out there, it wouldn't be so bad, would it? _I wonder. _No one would really miss him._

I climb the stairs to Michonne's house, knocking on the door. It's answered by a smiling Judith, who immediately hugs me with a gleeful squeal. "Hey, Jude," I say with a bit of a laugh. "Is your momma around? I gotta talk to her."

Judith takes my hand, leading me inside. "Judith, who is it?" Michonne questions as she starts to get up from where she sits on the couch.

"It's Clary," Judith answers.

"Oh, no, 'chonne, don't get up," I quickly say, dropping Judith's hand as I rush over to Michonne. "I came 'cause I got a request."

Michonne raises an eyebrow, glancing away as Judith runs off to play with her toys. She looks back up at me, asking, "What kind of request?"

"I want to take Negan on a run."

Michonne blinks. "Excuse me?"

"Negan," I repeat. "Dad's going back to Hilltop with Gracie, but I'm going scavenging. And it'll be for a couple days, so I'll need someone to watch my back. It'll be dangerous—I want to go close to the city—so I don't want to risk anyone I care about. And Negan is sitting down in that cell doing nothing, but he's getting fed and clothed with a roof over his head. He can contribute, if you'll let me take him with me."

"Clary…"

"Michonne, I know what I'm doing. Negan won't try something with me. He knows me too well, and he knows that he wouldn't get far if he did try something." Michonne hesitates. "Please, Michonne."

Michonne sighs. "Well… I guess I _could_ go without having to deal with Negan for a couple days, and you do know how to hold your own."

"Is that a yes?"

"Just don't kill him, Clary."

"Thank you, Michonne."

* * *

"Alright, up and at 'em," I announce, stepping up to the bars that separate Negan and I. "I got the shit packed, I got a route mapped out, and I found you a baseball bat—not Lucille, though, sorry."

"What?" Negan questions.

"You and me, we're going on a run. Let's see if you can do something to help these communities."

"You're letting me out?"

"Well, you'll be under my watch, but yeah. Let's go. I got the key."

"Finally," Negan sighs as I hold up the keys. "I can stretch my legs."

"Oh, there is one more thing. It's a precaution that Michonne's making me take, but I _swear,_ I'll take 'em off you as soon as we're clear of Alexandria."

I hold up a pair of handcuffs in my other hand, and Negan quips, "I didn't realize Michonne was so kinky."

I force myself to hide a smile as I threaten, "Don't make me leave 'em on you. I'll need you to watch my back, and you can't do that if you're wearing handcuffs."

"Well, technically, I _could_ watch your back—with my eyes."

"Hands," I order, and Negan gives me his usual shit eating grin as I cuff him through the bars. I unlock the cell door, escorting him out and tossing the keys to the cell back to the guard on duty.

"Ooh, the tiger's got us a wagon and everything!" Negan says as I push him towards the wagon, two of Alexandria's horses prepared to pull it. I leave Slick behind to be rested and ready for when I return to Hilltop after the run. Negan and I climb up onto the wagon, Negan grinning as the gate to Alexandria is opened for us. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

* * *

The first four days were entirely uneventful.

We scavenged through different stores, not finding nearly as much as I wanted to find. Negan often teased me, making his usual smartass comments. I could tell that he was truly grateful to get out of the cell for a while, even though he knew that he'd be locked up again once we got back. Negan was slowly growing on me, giving me a genuine smile anytime one of his quips earned him even the tiniest smile. "You just wanted a little bonding time with Negan, didn't you, tiger?" Negan had taken to saying.

I had taken to flipping him off in response, especially as his pet names continued to grow more and more ridiculous. I don't remember why he originally started using beautiful as a pet name, but I had quickly begun telling him to fuck off in response to it. I didn't want to admit it, but it had quickly become our inside joke. I thought that, surprisingly, Negan and I might actually be able to get along. He reminded me a little of Abraham, in the way that his jokes could make me smile and cringe all at once. Things are actually going pretty well for once.

Everything goes to shit, though, on our fifth day of scavenging.

Murphy's Law is a bitch.

We thought the store was clear. It had to have been—Negan and I checked every room, every nook and cranny where a walker could've been hidden. But one still got in somehow, someone that hadn't been dead for long, judging by the lack of decay.

Some poor bastard who just couldn't get away fast enough.

I can hold my own against a single walker, no matter how recently turned. I'd be dead if I couldn't. But it's a different story whenever your arms are currently full of supplies that I can't drop just to take out a walker.

So what I am to do?

I fucking book it.

"Negan!" I shout, running down the aisle with a walker hot on my ass. I spot him at the end, raising his bat to his shoulder. For a split second, I think he's gonna hit me. "Don't swing, don't swing!" I drop to my knees, sliding, and as soon as I pass him, I bark, "Swing!"

I hear the bat collide with the walker's face behind me, a sickening crack as bones shatter. I spin on my knee, watching the walker fall and Negan deal one final hit to the head to make sure it's dead. He turns to me, questioning, "You alright?"

I give a nod, and Negan pulls me to my feet. "This is the last of the stuff from the back. Let's bag it and go."

"Sounds good," Negan agrees with a nod. He wipes the walker blood off his bat on the walker's clothes, then searches the body for weapons. He takes a buck knife and its sheath from the belt, a Swiss Army knife and single bullet from a pocket. "Son of a bitch didn't even use it."

"No gun," I note. "Maybe no way to shoot himself. He got bit, and he couldn't end it him—"

I cut myself off, and Negan and I both know at the same time why I had to stop. I pass the supplies to Negan to put it into the bags, stepping away for a minute to dig the casing out of my pocket. I close my eyes, just holding it tightly for a minute, flinching as I remember the silenced gunshot. The way I lunged forward to catch Carl's body, the way I was still holding him when Rick and Michonne came back in.

Sometimes I still wonder if he'll be waiting for me on the other side, if he'll be waiting to meet me when tomorrow comes.

Negan clears his throat, and I turn, stuffing the casing back in my pocket. "You sure you're okay?"

"I was there when Carl pulled the trigger," I tell Negan. "Let's just… let's just go, okay?"

He offers, "I'll carry the supplies out, you pack it in the wagon?"

I nod, and we get to work. Negan's inside, grabbing the last bit of our bounty when I hear a gun being cocked. I freeze as soon as I hear it, and a male voice tells me, "Hands in the air."

I swallow, doing as I'm told.

"Now, step away from the wagon." I take a few steps back, turning to face the man threatening me. He's of average height and build, the kind of guy that could easily be lost in a crowd. At first, I think there's nothing too extraordinary about him. Then, I notice the burn along the side of his face. I recognize that burn—Dwight had one just like it.

"You're a Savior," I say. He isn't one that I recognize. There had been some that took off after the surrender, living on their own.

"You're the Orphan," he replies. "And you're gonna hand over your shit. Throw your weapons on the ground." I do as he says, dropping my crossbow. I slowly bend down, placing Rick's gun and my knife on the ground as well. "Now, hand over what you've got in the wagon. It belongs to me now."

"That time's passed," I say, eyes darting to the store. I can see Negan just inside, completely unaware of the situation out here. "Saviors don't own us. We beat you."

"But which one of us has the gun?" the Savior retorts. My eyes dart towards Negan again, and the Savior starts to turn, following my gaze. For a split second, I think he's going to see Negan and fire on him. I lunge forward, but the gun fires before I get a chance to disarm the Savior.

* * *

_**~Negan~**_

A gunshot rings out from the front of the store, and I spin. I watch Clary's body drop, a man standing over her with a gun.

"No!" I shout. I drop the bag of supplies I was carrying, charging at the shooter with a yell. I swing my bat, which doesn't deal nearly as much damage as Lucille but gets the job done nonetheless. The man drops the gun, dropping to the ground as well. I stand over him, recognizing him as one of my former followers before dealing the killing blow.

I drop my bat, rushing to Clary's side. She's gasping for breath, blood flowing from the wound in her left shoulder. "You must really want some of Negan's attention, getting shot," I tease, Clary letting out a cry as I press my hands to her shoulder. "Just hang in there, beautiful."

"Fuck off, Negan," Clary manages.

"Don't tell me to fuck off, I'm trying to save your life."

"Yeah, after I got shot for you," she retorts.

I look down at her with furrowed eyebrows. "You got shot for me?"

"That Savior, he was going after you. I tried to stop him." Clary lifts her eyes as we both feel flecks of cold, and I glance up, following her gaze to find snow falling from the sky. "Winter's here. We gotta get back."

"We gotta keep you from bleeding to death first. Come on."

Clary lets out a cry as I lift her, clutching her shoulder as if it'd make the pain go away. We make it into the wagon, and I instruct Clary to keep her hands pressed against her wound as I gather our weapons. "Negan, we need to get back to Alexandria. I need Siddiq."

"We're not gonna make it back before the snows."

I glance back at Clary when she doesn't respond. She's terrified, and it's not from the fact that she was just shot. She told me how Aaron wasn't a huge fan of her going on this run and threatened to come to Alexandria if she wasn't home within the week. She didn't want him out here—that's why she brought me along, so she wouldn't risk him. Clary whispers, "What do we do?"

"We find somewhere to hole up," I decide, climbing up beside her and taking the reins. "Wait until the storm passes, patch you up until we can get you back to Alexandria."

I urge the horses on, reaching over and putting Clary's hood up with one hand when the snow starts falling more heavily. She tucks herself into my side, seeking the bit of shelter my body provides from the wind whipping snow right into us. "We can't keep going in this," Clary notes. "Can barely see the road. A damn herd could be on us in seconds and we wouldn't know."

"I know a place," I told her. "We're close. Actually, we're here."

I turn off the main road onto a dirt one, stopping at a farm house. I quickly unhitch the horses, putting them in the barn. I grab the first aid kit from the wagon, then pick Clary up, carrying her inside. The first room we enter is clear, and I put Clary down, telling her, "Stay there. I'll clear the house."

"No, let me help," Clary argues, trying to push herself to her feet.

"Don't," I warn. "You're injured. I'll be quick, and then we'll get you patched up. Just… don't die on me yet."

"Sounds like a plan," Clary relents, giving me a weak thumbs up. I return her thumbs up with one of my own, walking into the living room to check for walkers. I start to open a door to another room that branches off from the living room when I hear Clary shriek, "Negan!"

I pivot on my heel, running when I hear the growls. A walker has emerged from the kitchen on the opposite side of the foyer, on top of Clary as she struggles to hold it off. I rip it off of her, driving my knife into its head. It drops to the ground, and I kneel in front of Clary. "Are you okay?" I question. "Did it bite you?"

"No, no, I ain't bitten," Clary replies with a shake of her head. "I'm okay."

I scoop Clary up again, carrying her into the living room. I put her down on the couch, telling her, "Stay here. This room's clear and I can close it off. I still have to clear the rest of the house." Clary nods. "You sure you're okay?"

"I ain't dead on you yet."

* * *

Aside from the walker in the kitchen, the house was clear, with enough wood on the enclosed back porch to last nearly two weeks. I keep a fire burning in the living room, Clary propped up on the couch. We pushed the collar of her shirt aside, and she now holds a piece of gauze to her shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding. I pull a chair over, saying, "Let me see. Did it stop yet?"

Clary pulls the gauze away from her shoulder, which starts trickling blood a second later. "Damn," I curse. "Lean up." Clary does as I say, groaning as she moves, and I sigh. "Goddammit."

"That sounds like a bad goddammit," Clary observes as I help her lay back.

"There's no exit wound."

"That is a goddammit."

"If we want to stop the bleeding, we're gonna have to take it out."

"Mm, fun," Clary comments.

I open the bag containing medical supplies again, rooting through it. "There's nothing we can use to stitch it," I report. "Already checked the house—there's no sewing kit, either. Someone found it and took it. I mean, that's probably what happened."

Clary raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't question my slip up yet. "You even know how to stitch someone up?"

"You want me to save your life or not?"

"Negan, answer my damn question."

"I… I don't know what I'm doing," I admit. "I… I can figure out how to take the bullet out, but after that… I don't know. I'm just trying to keep you from dying, and at this rate, I don't know if I'll even be able to do that."

"Well that's inspiring."

"I'm trying!"

"I know," Clary assures me. "I believe in you, Negan. I really do. I know you don't have any clue what you're doing, but do any of us?" I shrug, knowing she has a point. "Negan, take over for a second?" I comply with a nod, holding the gauze for her. Clary unbuttons her flannel the rest of the way and pulls it off, the shirt sticking around her shoulder due to the blood. The camisole she wears underneath is covered in blood, and Clary hesitates for a moment before peeling that off, too. "Don't look."

"I won't," I promise her, and Clary holds the bloodied camisole against her chest with one hand, covering herself. I can see other scars on her shoulder and stomach, the blood that splatters her skin highlighting the scar on her neck. This kid's been through hell and back, and those are just the scars I can see.

Clary places her smaller hand over mine, her grey eyes meeting my hazel ones. "Don't kill me, alright?"

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Wind howling, a fire crackling.

I slowly open my eyes, looking around. I'm still on the couch, though now wrapped in a blanket. Negan's asleep in an armchair by the fire, and I pull the blanket away from my shoulder. I remember screaming in pain and then nothing, passing out before Negan even had the bullet out of my shoulder. It's now bandaged, gauze taped against the wound. Negan put my shirt back on, buttoning it up most of the way, a few buttons left undone for easy access to my injured shoulder. I push myself to my feet, swaying for a moment before I steady myself.

I pass by the fireplace on my way towards the window, then pause when I realize I recognized a face in a picture. I backtrack a few steps, gasping when I find that I wasn't imagining things. Staring back at me is Negan, a few years younger, his arm around a pretty woman with dark hair and dark eyes, crinkling as she smiles.

"Holy shit," I whisper to myself. That's why Negan knew about the sewing kit earlier—this was his house. And that woman. "Lucille. That's her."

I can't help but feel like I'm intruding, staring at this picture of his wife in his home. I turn away, making my way to the window. I look out, the blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

It's still snowing, the blizzard in full swing outside. A shadow falls over me, and Negan steps to the window beside me. "You shouldn't be up yet," Negan chastises.

"How long was I out?" I question.

"Just overnight."

"We need to get back."

"We're not going anywhere in that."

"My dad's gonna be worried."

"He will be, but we're stuck here until the storm passes."

"The horses? The wagon?"

"Wagon's secured. I brought our food in while you were out last night, made sure the horses were safe and had enough food to last 'em a couple days in case this lasts a while. Now—oh shit!" Negan catches me when I sway again, starting to fall. "You okay?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have gotten up."

"No shit." Negan slides his arm under my knees, effortlessly lifting me and carrying me back to the couch. "Now, as I was saying before you proved my point, you're gonna sit your little ass down because I don't want you hurting yourself more than you already have."

* * *

_**~Negan~**_

It's the next day, late in the evening, that the storm is finally showing signs of stopping. Clary hasn't gotten any better, her wound still bleeding despite being bandaged. In fact, she's weaker now, and I'm starting to get even more worried. Clary's spent a lot of time sleeping, shivering under blankets next to a roaring fire, her breaths shallow. Her pulse is faint when I check it, although her heart is beating faster.

She's dying slow, and there's nothing I can do.

I keep a close eye on her, waking her to check her bandage and get her to eat something. I haven't gone back to sleep since Clary woke up the night before, not willing to risk something happening to her while I sleep.

She's pale, far too pale for my liking. Clary falls back asleep as I check her bandage, gooseflesh appearing on her skin where I've pushed her coat and shirt aside to be able to see the bandage. I gently tap her cheek, waking her again. "Hey, will you eat something for me?" I request. "You need to keep up your strength. And then I'm gonna change your bandage."

Clary looks down, and I frown as she takes in the crimson staining through. "I'm still bleeding."

"Yeah," I say in a whisper. "I'm sorry, Clary. I don't know how to stop it." My eyes fell upon the fire. "We… we could cauterize it. That might work. But that much blood… there could be something internal, and I don't want to risk closing the wound when there's still internal bleeding."

"Yeah, but that's good," Clary says absentmindedly. "That's where my blood's supposed to be."

"I honestly don't know if you're fucking with me or if you've clocked out." I turn to the fire, spooning out some of the stew I had made into a bowl. I bring it back to Clary, holding the bowl for her as she eats. "The snow's slowing. I think it'll stop soon."

"Finally," Clary comments. "It's cold as balls."

"You're still cold?" I question. She's wrapped in a blanket and her coat, right next to the fire. Clary nods. "Maybe you're getting sick. I guess it is flu season."

"I think it's also my birthday."

"Oh yeah?" I question.

"We've been gone a week, right?" I nod. "That makes today November 2nd, my birthday."

"How old are you? Have you been able to keep track?"

"Nineteen."

For some reason, it never occured to me that she had been a child when the apocalypse began. Yeah, she was around seventeen when we met and the apocalypse had already been raging for years, but hearing that she was still in her _teens?_ I suddenly feel the weight of what I've done to her, the horrors I'd subjected a _goddamn child_ to. I love kids, and I hate what this world is putting them through. Even more so, I hate what _I_ had put children through when I ruled the roost. That was always the one downside to being the almighty Negan—the sufferings of the innocents, especially children.

"Negan? You with me?"

"Yeah," I say after a moment, clearing my throat. "Sorry. Uh, happy birthday, I guess."

"And here I am, spending it with you."

"Well, ain't I just special, beautiful."

"Fuck off, Negan."

I put the empty bowl on the coffee table, giving her a grin that fades when she shivers again. "I'll throw another log on, build up the fire."

Clary gives me a smile so small I almost miss it. "Thanks."

"Of course, kid." I change her bandage, blood still seeping from the wound. I sit on the opposite end of the couch when I finish, watching the snow out the window and stealing a glance at Clary every now and then, who is starting to doze off again. "Hey," I say, tapping her outstretched foot to keep her from falling asleep before holding out an arm. "Come here."

"What?" Clary asks.

"Come here," I repeat. "I'll keep you warm."

"Ew."

"Not like that. Jesus, kid, get your mind out of the gutter." Clary gives a sigh before moving over to me, almost in my lap as she leans back against my chest. I allow her to get situated before putting my arm around her. "All good?"

"If you woulda told me a year ago that I'd be sitting here in your lap, snowed in, after getting shot because I feared for your life, I'd'a smacked the shit outta you." I chuckle, and I look down at her as she makes herself a bit more comfortable in my arms. Clary allows herself to relax, putting her trust in me as she closes her eyes.

Clary winces when my movements cause her to shift, but I reach forward, touching her arm where I saw a burn scar covering her forearm. "You were burned," I recall. "Was it… was it me? That night in Alexandria?"

Clary opens her eyes, her voice quiet as she answers, "Yeah. It was your men. A car exploded right in front of us."

Clary seems a little more on edge than usual, almost anxious. I don't necessarily blame her for not wanting to talk about her scars, but I spend a good minute confused about what exactly it is that's making her so anxious. _Her back_, I realize. _It's her back._

I had seen it when I was putting her shirt back on her. I saw the way there were scars crisscrossing it. Those scars were far too old to have been sustained during the apocalypse.

"Will you tell me about Lucille?" Clary inquires out of the blue. "Your wife, not the bat?"

The question catches me off-guard for a second, but I quickly recover, as always. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything," Clary replies. "Tell me about how you met, about how you proposed. I saw that picture of you two—she was beautiful, Negan."

A sad smile comes to my lips as I grant Clary her request, recalling stories about my late wife until she's asleep again. I stay awake throughout the night, alternating between watching the snow through the window, the fire, and occasionally looking down at Clary as she sleeps.

I've always said that I wanted a son like Carl, a daughter like Clary. Maybe not exactly like the two—that would've gotten a little too _Game of Thrones._ But nonetheless, with Clary asleep in my lap, I notice that she really is just someone's daughter. She gets to breathe when she sleeps, she doesn't have to worry about fighting. The scars don't disappear, of course—she is still a survivor, and she always will be.

For a moment, I pretend that the world hasn't gone to shit. I close my eyes, pretending that the stew I made is actually my Lucille's cooking, its smell drifting from the kitchen to my nose. I pretend that the blizzard outside is just a regular Nor'easter that would've had me taking a day off of work so I could spend time with my family. My family—that's all pretend. It was just me and Lucille, no kids, but I pretend that, for a moment, the girl in my lap is my daughter. It takes me a long debate with myself, not wanting to wake her, before I finally stroke Clary's hair as I always imagined stroking my daughter's, if I had one.

"It's alright, pumpkin," I whisper, the pet name I always wanted to use for my daughter. "You'll be alright. Negan's here. I'll keep you safe."

I open my eyes, and my daydream disappears. Once again, I'm snowed in with someone that was once my enemy and now, possibly, my closest ally. And she is definitely my only friend.

* * *

It's early in the morning, still dark out, when the wind stops altogether. There's enough light from the fire that I can tell that it has stopped snowing as well. I breathe out a sigh of relief; we could get out of this house and get Clary the help she needs.

I want to wake her to let her know the news, but I know that she would want to set off as soon as she sees that it has stopped snowing. I decide I'll wait until the sun is up so we wouldn't be traveling in the dark, not willing to risk it.

Within four hours, the sun is up. "Clary," I say softly, nudging her uninjured arm. "Clary, wake up." After a few more tries, her eyes open. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Fuck off, Negan," she replies, closing her eyes again.

"Well, I thought you'd want to know that the snow stopped."

Clary's eyes shoot open, awake now. "It stopped?"

"Give me some time to get the wagon ready, and then we'll be off to good old Alexandria."

"You'll be back in that cell," Clary says after a moment, not moving out of my lap.

"Yeah, but you need that doctor."

"Negan, I…" Clary swallows. "Don't leave me. Please."

"I won't, tiger," I promise her. "I won't."

* * *

"Open the gate!" I call as we near it, those on watch drawing their guns on me because it's, well, me. "Clary!"

Clary opens her eyes, pushing herself away from my side, where she had been half-asleep. "Open the gate," Clary echoes, the lack of strength in her voice reflecting how weak she is at this point. "Someone get Siddiq."

The gate rolls open, and we ride in. As soon as we're clear of the gate, I stop, climbing down from the wagon. I help Clary down, and she falls into my arms, unable to stand on her own. She whispers, "Negan…"

"I've got you, tiger," I assure her, picking her up. I take off for the infirmary, and as I near it, I see two faces that I know don't belong to Alexandrian residents running down the street towards me.

"What did you do to my daughter?!" Aaron demands as they reach me on the infirmary's porch.

"I tried to save her!" I return.

"What happened?" Maggie questions as she holds open the door to the infirmary for me.

"We ran into one of my old men, and he shot her."

"She was shot?" Siddiq questions, gesturing for me to place Clary, who is unconscious once again, on a bed. Aaron pushes past me, taking her hand in his. "When?"

"It's been three days," I tell him, fiddling with my hands in nervousness now that she's not in my arms anymore. "The bleeding should've stopped by now, right?" Siddiq nods, removing layers of blankets, her coat, and her shirt to reach the bandage on her shoulder. "I could've cauterized the wound, right? Should I have?"

"Well, you definitely could've. Why didn't you?"

"I didn't know if there was any internal bleeding."

"I could've opened it up again," Siddiq tells me, examining the wound. "It would've made it a little more difficult, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference. Your guess was right. There's some internal bleeding. It's why it hasn't stopped. For the past three days, she's slowly been bleeding out. I can go in, find the bleeder, stitch it up, but… without a transfusion, she'll die. She needs blood, but I don't know her blood type."

"She's O-Positive," Maggie speaks up. The rest of us in the room turn to look at her. "When... Carl was shot, she tried to volunteer herself." Almost absentmindedly, she adds, "He was A-Positive."

Siddiq clears his throat, asking, "Do we know of anyone that's—"

"I'm O-Positive," Aaron blurts. He struggles for a second to get his sleeve up, and I reach over, rolling it up past his elbow for him. "I guess we'll finally have the same blood."

* * *

_**~Michonne~**_

Aaron never left Clary's side through the night, holding her hand and praying she'll pull through. Negan had tried his best to save his daughter, but simply put, the man didn't know what he was doing. Aaron told me he couldn't hold that against Negan—he'd managed to keep her alive long enough to get her back to Alexandria, but Aaron wasn't sure if she'd make it through. Siddiq said she'd lost almost too much blood over the past three days, that even with the transfusion, things were rocky.

Negan begged me to let him stay in the infirmary until he knew that Clary was okay, but I didn't even want to _think_ about him being out any longer, especially within Alexandria's walls. I declared that I'd already granted him more freedom than he deserved and sent him back to his cell. This morning, I sent Aaron home to get some sleep in an actually bed, promising him that I'd stay to watch over Clary. Maggie went with him to make sure that he actually slept, and she was prepared to force him to sleep if he didn't.

It's late in the afternoon when I hear words mumbled from Clary, whose eyes remain closed. I scoot my chair closer, able to understand Clary this time as she says, "Negan." I look up at Siddiq as he appears in the doorway, having heard movement. "Where's Negan?"

"He's back in his cell," I tell Clary as her eyes flutter open.

"He said he wouldn't leave me." Siddiq and I share a look, perplexed. "I want to see Negan."

"I'm not letting him out again," I decide. "You've already been shot because of him."

"It wasn't his fault. Negan killed the guy that shot me and saved my life. 'chonne, I wanna see him."

"No. That's the end of the discussion." I stand. "Forget about him. I'm going to tell Aaron you're awake."

I march past Siddiq with a hand on my belly, leaving him to watch over Clary.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Siddiq steps aside to allow Michonne to exit, walking over to my bed. He questions, "How are you feeling?"

"My shoulder hurts like a bitch, so nothing new."

Siddiq checks the sutures in my shoulder. "Do you feel light headed at all?" I shake my head. "How's your arm?"

"My arm?" I repeat, looking down at a bandage in confusion. "What?"

"You needed blood."

"But how'd you know my type?"

"Maggie," Siddiq explains. "She remembered, and luckily for us, Aaron's O-Positive, too. As long as you take it easy, don't push yourself, you should heal in no time." He glances over his shoulder as the door to the infirmary opens. "Oh, that's probably Aaron and Maggie. I'm gonna go fill them in, then we'll be in, alright?"

I nod, and Siddiq leaves, closing the door most of the way behind him. As soon as he's gone, I swing my feet over the edge of my bed, sliding them into my boots. I decide that if Michonne isn't going to let Negan see me, then I'll go see Negan my damn self.

"You shouldn't be doing this," Carl chastises.

"You never stayed in the damn house," I retort, waving his ghost away. "I'll see Negan if I wanna see Negan, and you can't stop me."

I'm unsteady on my feet when I first stand, but I stabilize myself and pull my coat on. I make my way to the window, a blast of cold hitting me in the face as I open it. I climb out, wincing whenever I move my arm, and close the window behind me. I make sure no one's watching me before I take off down the street for Negan's cell.

I descend the stairs, finding Negan sitting against the wall, staring at the picture of himself and Lucille in his hands. As soon as Negan sees me enter, he shoots to his feet, saying, "You shouldn't be up walking around."

"Yeah, I do lots of things I shouldn't," I reply. _God, I thought Carl was bad, but Negan, too?_

"Are you okay?"

"Better now, thanks to Siddiq. And you, of course. Never would've made it out of there if it weren't for you. It occurred to me I never actually thanked you for saving my life. So… thank you, Negan."

"You had me nervous for a bit there, kid," Negan tells me, gesturing for me to sit. We take our spots alongside the wall, the bars separating us but otherwise side by side. "Thought we were gonna lose you."

"Hey, I ain't goin' down that easy."

"Well, I didn't think I'd go down, and look at where I'm at now."

I turn my head away, looking down before back at Negan, whispering, "I'm sorry. I didn't think that Rick could win it. At the very least, you'd destroy each other, but I _never_ thought that he'd make it out alive. And I'm sorry, Negan, that he did. I'm sorry we didn't win."

"It's okay," Negan assures me. "I'm still alive, and Rick's gone."

"I… I told him. In those last seconds before he blew the bridge, I told him what I asked you to do. I told him I wanted him dead, but not like that."

"And then he was dead. But you can't keep a big dog locked up forever, you know."

I glance down. "I know. Just… be careful, Negan. Don't do anything stupid. I'd… I'd hate to lose a friend."

"We're friends?"

Negan's question is an honest one—he's truly surprised that I consider us friends, or something that resembles it.

"I can't forgive what you did to Glenn and Abraham, to Daryl," I tell him, "but you've also had my back, protected and saved me when it counted. There was a time when we were enemies, but you're not my enemy anymore. We're allies, and one day, we'll be friends."

"Just so you know," Negan says, "you're my only friend. I'm not your friend yet, and that's okay; but you are my friend."

It's a genuine smile I give him this time, one that isn't so small that Negan would've missed it. "You know, you never did finish telling me about Lucille."

"I did. You just fell asleep."

"Oh."

"You want me to tell you again?" I nod. "Alright, what's the last thing you remember?"

* * *

_**~Negan~**_

Clary tells me the last thing she remembers in my story about Lucille, and I launch back into the story. I finish it this time, Clary curled up against the cell wall, listening intently to my story. She questions, "Did you have kids before?"

"I always wanted some. I love kids—that's why I was a teacher. But Lucille wasn't thrilled with the idea of kids, so we never had any."

"You were a teacher?"

"A high school gym teacher, yeah."

"That makes sense now," Clary says with a small laugh. "Wait, let me guess. You coached baseball?"

"That obvious?"

"Just a little."

I chuckle. "You like a baseball, kid?" She nods. "I knew I liked you. Favorite team? Player?"

"Javier García," she answers immediately. I raise my eyebrows, and she shrugs. "Dude's hot. And he's got one hell of a swing." She reaches through the bars, taking my hand. "Look, Negan, for what it's worth, I think you would've been a great dad."

"Feeling a little sympathy for the devil, are we?"

"Fuck off, Negan."

We smile at each other, and I know she doesn't have any true malice in her words. I give her hand a gentle squeeze as I start on my second story, and I can tell that Clary's starting to drift off again. I don't mind, though, eventually putting her to sleep with my story.

I let her sleep, moving the electric heater in my cell closer to her. It's about half an hour after Clary had fallen asleep, an hour after she first came to the cell, that I hear someone calling for Clary outside on the street. It's Siddiq, I realize as I push myself to my feet, making my way towards the window. Siddiq's calling Clary's name on the street, searching for her, almost in a panic. "Keep it down, Doc," I hiss. "She's sleeping."

Siddiq spins, realizing that I'm the one that spoke. He rushes down the stairs to the cell, Siddiq's eyes widening when he sees Clary curled up against the cell wall, not moving. He demands, "What'd you do to her?"

"Uh, save her life?" I respond. "She came to thank me. Poor kid's exhausted, fell asleep right there."

Siddiq keeps his eyes on me, not trusting me one bit, as he makes his way towards Clary. Siddiq kneels next to her, breathing out a sigh of relief when he sees that Clary's still breathing. I wonder if he actually believes that I would've done something to hurt her. Siddiq places his hand on her uninjured shoulder, softly saying, "Clary."

"Oh, don't wake her," I chide.

Siddiq glares at me, then gently picks Clary up, her head resting against his shoulder. She doesn't even stir as Siddiq adjusts her, turning his back on me as he makes his way towards the exit.

"Siddiq, wait," I call. "Bring her over here. Please." Siddiq pauses, debating whether or not he should bring her over so I can say goodbye. "Please, Siddiq. You really think I'd hurt her?"

"You're Negan," he replies. "I've heard the stories of what you've done. I've seen what you've ordered your people to do. You don't change."

"The world has changed," I correct, wrapping my hand around the bars. "Thing is, I've changed, too. That little girl there will be the first to tell you that."

Siddiq glances at the girl in his arms before he turns, walking away and taking Clary with him. I can do nothing but watch with a twinge of sadness as Siddiq takes Clary away. I finally have a friend, someone that's willing to trust me even the tiniest bit; and then she's gone. Now, trapped again in the ten by ten cell with the walls closing in, I'm alone once more.


	10. A Whole Lot Worse

**IX: A Whole Lot Worse**

_**~Daryl~**_

"He ain't out here."

Michonne turns at the sound of my voice, looking up at me from the riverbank just downstream from the bridge.

"I've followed this to the ocean and back," I continue. "Ain't nothing out there, either. Clary says she thinks he was hurt, don't know how bad. You good?"

Michonne places a hand on her stomach. She's seven months, almost at eight. "This one's been kicking the shit out of me every morning at four. Can't sleep anyways, so…"

Michonne cuts herself off, wincing slightly.

"He knows we're talking about him," I joke.

"Yeah, he does," Michonne agrees. "Judith's been asking about you. It's been a while since we've seen you back at Alexandria."

"I'll be back when I find something."

"There's plenty of reasons to come back. Finding something doesn't have to be one of them." Michonne steps closer to me, making a show of rubbing her bulging belly. "Like escorting a pregnant lady back so she doesn't get hurt."

I chuckle, knowing she's not going to take no for an answer. "You know I ain't gonna stop looking. And we both know that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself." I extend my hand to help her up the bank. "Come on."

* * *

The gate is rolled open as soon as Michonne and I reach it, then closed behind us the second we're through. Michonne slides off her horse, passing it off to Eugene, who greets me with a nod of hello. I park my bike near the gate, putting the kickstand down and climbing off. I start to unstrap my crossbow, but I never get to it.

"Daryl," I hear Clary say, and I turn to find her standing behind me. She wraps me in a hug, which I immediately return. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

"I could say the same," I tell her. "Thought you'd be back home at Hilltop by now."

"We were just getting ready to head out," Clary replies. "But you, Daryl, where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you in nearly two months! I was worried!" I don't answer, but Clary's never needed me to speak for her to know my answer. "Oh. Nothing?"

"Don't mean that he's gone," I tell her.

"Just don't kill yourself looking for him," Aaron tells me, clapping his hand on my shoulder as I release my sister from our embrace.

"I won't," I promise. "Where's Gracie?"

"Back home with Maggie. She's watching her when we're here until she gets old enough to come with us."

"Michonne, Scott and Rosita are back," Tara says as she hurries over to us from the gate.

Michonne's wary, stating, "You wouldn't come get me unless something happened."

"They've got people with them, a woman and two kids," Tara replies. "Come on."

We follow her to the gate, and Tara rolls it open. There's a boy about fifteen, a girl no older than eight. "We found them wandering not far from here," Scott explains. "One of them's hurt."

Michonne turns to the woman that Rosita's supporting, tilting her head slightly. The woman says, "Oh my god. Michonne?"

Michonne breaks into a wide grin. "Jocelyn."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Jocelyn has been in Alexandria for two weeks with her band of orphans, welcomed with open arms by Michonne due to them knowing each other in college. Aaron and I are finishing up our biweekly trip to Alexandria, planning on returning to Hilltop later today. Daryl's been alternating between the two communities, plus searching for Rick or his body.

I rest my head against Aaron's shoulder as we walk down Alexandria's streets on an early morning stroll, the last of the snow melting away at the curbs. "Another sleepover?" Aaron asks Michonne as we pass.

"Judith loves them," Michonne replies with a grin. "You should bring Gracie next time you're here, let her go."

"I think she'd like that," Aaron says. "It'd be a good way to get her to know everyone here, especially the other kids."

"Tell Jude we said hi," I add. "We're gonna be goin' here soon."

"Will do," Michonne promises as we go our separate ways. Aaron and I continue on, eventually making the loop to go back to our house, which takes us past the pantry. I hear Scott's voice from inside as he says, "Oh my god. Michonne!"

Aaron and I share a look at the urgency in his voice before we venture over. "Holy shit," I say upon seeing the body. "Thomas, Jesus Christ."

Michonne arrives, followed almost immediately by a breathless Frankie. "Something's wrong," Frankie says. "The infirmary was raided. Oh god."

"Oh, no, no," Michonne says, looking down as she turns away from Thomas's body. "Joss, no."

"Jocelyn did this?!" Aaron demands.

"Not Jocelyn," I say, following the child-sized bloody footprints Michonne's staring at. "One of her kids."

I step around Michonne, the others trailing behind me. I follow the trail of bloody footprints to the manhole Carl and I used to escape the night Alexandria was bombed. The cover is askew, the footprints leading right down into it.

I turn to Aaron, but he already knows what I'm going to say. "No way in hell," he protests.

"I have to," I reply. "You go back to Hilltop. I gotta find those kids. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Last time I let you go on a run, you nearly died," Aaron returns. "I can't let you do this."

"Daddy, Jude's in danger," I try. "It could've been Gracie, but it's not. Daddy, it's Carl's _sister._ I have to find her and the other kids."

"Go," Aaron tells me after a moment. "Be careful. I love you."

"I will," I promise. "Heart's still beating."

"Heart's still beating," Aaron replies, kissing my temple. "Now go."

* * *

Michonne and I meet up with Daryl about a mile outside of Alexandria, tracking the kids to an old school. We leave our horses at one end of the building, Daryl's motorcycle about a mile down the road, left there so they wouldn't hear us coming. We split up, searching for the kids.

I don't stray far from Daryl, Michonne off on her own. We share a look when we hear Michonne shout, "PJ! Wait!"

"Well," I say, raising my crossbow to my shoulder, "we're in the right place."

"C'mon," Daryl rushes, leading the way through a broken chain-link fence and into the school. We go back to back as we search a classroom, then side by side in the hallway, a wall behind us to cover our backs. Michonne stands on her own in front of a group of Jocelyn's kids, her sword drawn, but the kids have more weapons.

"Michonne," Daryl calls. It's a way of both asking if she's okay and letting her know that we're here, ready to back her up.

Michonne demands, "Where are my kids?"

"Drop 'em," Mitchell, the teenager that was at the gate that day, orders.

"Just tell me that they're safe."

The girl that was at the gate, Winnie, lets an arrow fly, striking Daryl.

"No!" I shout, moving to fire, but another arrow hits me. I hit the ground next to Daryl, panting as he pulls the arrow out of his shoulder. I was luckier—it just scraped my arm.

Daryl quips, "Great, this shit again. Hey, do me a favor and don't stick up for these assholes this time, alright?"

"They shot you first," I growl. "I ain't lettin' that go."

Daryl and I move at the same time to cover each other when kids emerge from the classrooms around us, weapons drawn. The last thing I remember is being hit in the back of the head with something, barely conscious as I collapse into Daryl's arms before he's hit, too.

* * *

_**~Michonne~**_

There's a throbbing in my head as I slowly open my eyes, my forehead wet with something. Blood, I assume as I remember the kids knocking us out. I glance to my left, finding Clary tied with her hands tied on the pipe above her head like mine, her toes barely touching the ground. To her left is Daryl, staring straight ahead. I look up towards his hands, his thumb moving back and forth as he tries to saw through the rope bindings with his nail.

I look to my right, finding the children. They stand around a fire, and Winnie turns to look at me. "Finally," she says, then turns to face Linus. "She's awake."

Linus removes a red hot brand from the fire, an X on the end. Clary's breathing falters as he walks behind her, but she's not the Dixon he's going for. He stops behind Daryl, and I hear Jocelyn say, "Go on, Linus. Be strong."

Mitchell lifts the back of Daryl's shirt, and Linus presses the brand to his back. I've never heard Daryl scream in pain the way he does, even with the gag in his mouth. "No!" Clary shouts through her gag. "No, stop!"

She tugs on the ropes binding her, shaking the pipe but getting nowhere. She still tries though, unable to stand to see her brother in pain. I don't catch all of what she yells at them due to the gag, but she calls them things that not even Negan would say. Jocelyn gets to her feet as Linus pulls the brand away from Daryl, standing in front of him. She looks Daryl over, Clary snarling something that sounds vaguely like, "Step the fuck back, you fucking bitch!"

Jocelyn smirks, looking down at the child that burned Daryl. "Well done, Linus."

"The strong survive," he replies.

"And thrive."

Jocelyn steps away from Daryl, towards Clary as she continues to fight the ropes and shout profanities. Mitchell steps around Daryl, and Jocelyn moves aside as he stands in front of Clary. He doesn't even flinch as she fights like hell against her bindings. PJ circles around me with another brand, another X, but Clary's moving too much for Linus to be able to lift her shirt so PJ can brand her.

Mitchell lands a single punch directly to Clary's face, stunning her and subduing her long enough for PJ to brand her.

I think I see tears leaking out of Daryl's eyes at Clary's screams.

She pants when PJ finally pulls the brand away, no fight left in her. Her voice is thick, struggling to keep it together as she whimpers, "Daryl."

It's whatever language the two have between them, neither needing to speak for the other to understand. Whatever meaning Daryl has behind the look he gives her calms her, her breathing evening out.

"Nice job, PJ," Mitchell tells him as the boy steps away from Clary.

"The strong survive and thrive," he repeats.

Jocelyn moves to stand in front of me, saying, "I told you children are capable of anything. I taught them, helped them become what we are because they can't be soft. Not now, not like I was."

"Where is she?!" I demand through the gag.

Winnie pulls the final brand out of the fire, turning to look up at me. "Control it, Winnie," Jocelyn tells her. "Don't let it control you."

She nods, circling around behind me. I don't know who it is that holds my shirt, but I can't even think straight when the pain courses through me, my skin sizzling under the brand. Winnie finally pulls the brand away, and Jocelyn praises, "Well done. Come now."

She turns and walks away, the majority of the kids following behind her, one remaining on watch duty. Daryl breaks the ropes binding him, pulling them and his gag off. The kid that's supposed to be watching us has his back to us, making it easy for Daryl to sneak up on him. He wraps his arms around his neck in a chokehold, the kid going still as he cuts off his air supply.

Daryl unties me next, not even pausing to ask if I'm okay before he moves onto Clary. He frees her, ripping her gag off as she collapses into his arms. "I've got you," Daryl murmurs. "I've got you, Clars. It's okay. I told you we'd be okay."

So that's what his look meant.

"They hurt you," Clary whispers, looking up at her brother.

"They hurt you, too," Daryl replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Clary pulls herself out of his arms, a look crossing her face that I know means she wants vengeance. "They hurt you first. For that, they'll pay."

"Did you kill him?" I question, unable to tell if the boy is breathing or not.

"Nah, just knocked him out," Daryl responds.

"Let's split up," Clary suggests. "Make it easier to hunt 'em down."

"Clary!" I scold.

"I meant to find 'em!"

"Alright, we split up," Daryl agrees. "I'll tie him up."

I take a pipe as my weapon, going off on my own to search for the children Jocelyn stole. I make my way upstairs, able to hear her voice as she gives out orders to her children. "Send out another patrol," she says. "There could be more of them."

Jocelyn and the kids come to a stop when they see me in the hall. "They're out." She glances down to Winnie. "Alert the others. Load up the rest. We need to go."

Winnie blows a whistle as she takes off, a signal for the other children. A girl with my sword steps forward around Jocelyn, and I demand, "Where are my kids? Where's Judith? Tell me!"

"Why?" Jocelyn questions. "She's better off. You live in the past, chasing a ghost, while Judith's been with me."

Winnie and a few others lead a group of kids out of a door down the hall. "Judith!" I shout. "Judith!"

"You know what's next, Linus," Jocelyn says.

"Marked our kill," Linus answers, "kill our mark."

"Help him," Jocelyn orders the girl. "Mitchell, let's go."

Jocelyn and Mitchell take off a different way than Winnie went with the kids, and the girl swings the katana. I use the pipe to knock it away, then hit her wrist, causing her to drop the sword. I try, "I don't want to hurt you."

Linus charges forward, swiping at me with his knife. I try to dodge, but I know I'm slower due to the pregnancy. He gets a hit in, a shallow swipe on my stomach, before stepping back. It gives me enough time to pick up my katana, brandishing it and causing the two kids to flee. They take off the same way that Joss and Mitchell went, while I try the door that Winnie went out of it.

It's locked, but there has to be another way.

I take off in the same direction that the others went, only to be hit immediately by a board when I exit. I'm knocked to the ground, Jocelyn hitting me again. I spot the kids being loaded into a trailer, Winnie helping Judith inside.

"Judith!" I shout. "Judith!"

"I didn't know it was gonna be you, Michonne," Jocelyn says. "I didn't. I'm truly sorry that it is. It was just fate."

Jocelyn moves to swing again, but I've grabbed my katana, sticking it into her leg. She screams as I pull it out, collapsing to the ground. I get to my feet, driving the katana into her chest and killing her. I pull it out, stumbling forward as the kids draw their weapons.

"You can all come back to Alexandria," I try to tell them. "We'll take care of you now."

"Kill all of her children," Mitchell orders Winnie. "The rest of you are with me."

Mitchell charges with a battle cry, and I trip him, not wanting to kill this child. I don't turn my back on him, but I don't turn my back on the other kids, either. He gets back up, hatchet in hand as he charges again, and this time, I have no choice.

But my blade never meets him. His body drops before he reaches me, a bolt through his eye. I don't know who it was, but I have an inkling that it wasn't Daryl, who could never hurt a kid. PJ charges me with a battle cry, brandishing his knife. I drop my katana as I attempt to hold him off, keeping my stomach clear as he swings his knife wildly.

"Go! Finish it!" one of the children commands.

The young blonde girl turns, drawing a knife as she starts towards the trailer with Alexandria's children inside. "Winnie, no!" I try. "Stop! Don't!"

The other male teen within the group charges, and just when I think I'm a goner, another blade gleams in the sunlight as it sails through the air.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

The remaining male teenager charges towards an unarmed and preoccupied Michonne. There's a tiny part of me that's screaming that these are children, but that didn't stop me when I shot Mitchell when he charged Michonne. It didn't stop me when I doubled back and killed the one that was supposed to be guarding us. That same part is silenced once more as the anger for what these kids have done to Daryl and Michonne washes over me.

I don't hesitate to pick up Michonne's dropped katana, stopping the teen before he hurts us. His body drops, head rolling; and I take a step back as Michonne looks at me in horror, realizing that in one hand, I hold her katana, red with a child's blood. Michonne lets out a cry as PJ nearly stabs her, struggling to hold him back. I spin, killing the child, the blood splattering on Michonne. Alexandria's leader steps back as the rest of the children charge, and I step forward to face them on my own.

She watches in horror as, one by one, they drop.

_How could you live with killing a child? What kind of monster does that?_

My own voice now accuses me of the same thing I once sentenced Arat to die for.

_Negan was right. I could never do what he's done. But I can do a whole lot worse._

One child remains, brandishing her knife as she stands in the doorway of the trailer. "Winnie," Michonne calls, and the blonde hesitates. "Don't. Please, don't. Please, just go."

Winnie steps down from the trailer, knife still drawn as she stalks towards us. "Don't make me do this, kid," I warn.

"You killed my friends," she replies. She charges me, and I don't even give her a chance to fight or surrender.

I swing the katana.

It's one swipe, clean down the middle, the blade only getting stuck once it hits her sternum. I place my boot on her chest, pushing her body off of the sword. I step back from Winnie's body as Michonne runs for the RV. I turn as Daryl clears his throat beside me, taking in the carnage. I question, "How much did you see?"

"Just her," Daryl tells me, nodding towards Winnie. "Was it… all you?"

I nod, turning to shield the bloodied katana from the eyes of Alexandria's kids as they emerge from the trailer, following Judith as she runs for Michonne. Daryl wraps his arm around one as a few run to him, and I say, "You two, get 'em back to Alexandria. I can't go back."

"Clary," Daryl protests.

"I don't want to be around anyone right now." I drop Michonne's katana, whistling to call Slick over. I climb on his back before I fish in one of the saddlebags, digging out the small notebook I keep and a pen. I scribble a note on it, knowing that he'll understand it.

_You were right about me. I could never do what you've done. I can do a whole lot worse. Maybe we've been saying it backwards this entire time. Maybe it's __you_ _that's one bad day away from being __me__.  
__\- tiger_

I tear the paper out, folding it over and writing Negan's name on the front. I hand it down to Daryl, telling him, "Get that to Negan, alright?" Daryl takes it, looking down at it in confusion. "I can't go back, but y'all need to go. If you leave now, you'll still have daylight left."

I urge Slick on, and he senses my urgency to leave them behind, taking off at a gallop. I steer him away from the school and out onto a road until we come to an intersection. I recognize where I am by the sign that names this road Edgehill Parkway. I know a place along it where I can hide out for the time being, hoping that the dive bar still has alcohol left somewhere.

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

Michonne and I safely got the kids back to Alexandria, where I gave the note to Negan, just as Clary asked. Siddiq made me stay in the community until he patched me up before I went out after Clary.

She's not at the school when I return to it, but as I look around, I get an idea of where she might be. Alden told me (as well as Jesus, Maggie, and Aaron) what went down at the dive bar with Rick, worried about her after what she went through. It's close by, no more than four miles as the crow flies.

I kickstart my motorcycle, turning around and taking off for the dive bar.

* * *

I keep my crossbow raised as I enter the dive bar just in case, lowering it when I see a horse tied to one end of the bar. _Okay, that's a health code violation._ I look away from the horse, finding Clary laying on the bar, a bottle of Wild Turkey in her hand.

"You're seriously getting drunk right now?" I demand. "Here? Walkers could be all around this place and you'd have nowhere to run. The hell were you thinking?"

"Maybe I don't want to run," Clary replies.

"That why you're drinking?"

"It's the only way I can live with myself. I killed children, Daryl, and now they haunt me."

"Alright, _Sixth Sense,_ get your ass up. Now." Clary sits up, letting her legs dangle off the bar. "You're coming with me."

"Ooh, are we going on an adventure?" Clary asks, grinning after taking another swallow of Wild Turkey.

"Give me that," I snap, grabbing the bottle and dumping it on the ground.

"Hey! What the hell, man?"

"Come on, off the bar." Begrudgingly, Clary slides off the bar, and I start to untie her horse. "We're going somewhere you can sober up before we get you back to Hilltop."

"We're not going to Alexandria?"

I shake my head. "Michonne's closing 'em off 'cause of what happened."

"'Cause of me," Clary mumbles.

"Not even close. I don't want you to think about it. You didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice. I chose to come here, and you chose to come after me."

"And I'm choosing to take you home, but I'm not gonna do that until you're sober. Let's get out of here."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Daryl and I holed up in a house overnight, a hangover induced headache greeting me when I woke the next morning. Daryl simply laughed at me before taking me back to Hilltop and ordering me to go see Enid.

Enid doesn't question it when I show up on her doorstep, bloodied. She simply holds the door open for me, gesturing to the examination table. "Where's it at?" Enid questions.

"My back," I answer. "And I think I got something on my arm, too."

"You okay taking your shirt off?" I nod. "Okay. Take it off. I'll be there in a second."

I do as she says, Enig gathering supplies and washing her hands. "Oh, that is not fun," Enid says upon seeing the brand on my back. "Alright, arm first. This'll sting a bit."

"Yeah, what else is new?" I return. I remain silent, grimacing here and there as Enid cleans and bandages the wound from the kid's arrow. She murmurs the occasional apology. As she starts cleaning the brand, the door opens, and I glance over my shoulder to see Alden entering.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Alden blurts. "Sorry, I didn't realize you were busy. I'll come back."

"No, sit, I'm almost done," Enid replies. Alden takes a seat, and I stiffen as I hear his sharp intake of breath, knowing he's looking at my back. A minute later, Enid applies the bandage, giving me the okay to put my shirt back on. "You know the drill by now. Keep it clean, change the bandages. Use aloe to help with your back."

I nod, sliding off the examination table, and then it's Alden's turn. "The burn isn't bad," he says. "Earl sent me anyway."

"What is it with burns today?" Enid questions. It doesn't take her long to take care of Alden, and I remain by the door, waiting for him. I figure it's better to get it out of the way now.

Alden follows behind me when I leave the infirmary, and I glance up at him when he keeps staring at me. "I know you have questions," I tell him. "Everyone does."

"Talk in my room?" Alden suggests.

"Lead the way." I follow Alden to his room, and he takes a seat on the edge of his bed, leaving room for me. Instead, I remain standing, unbuttoning my shirt. "Whoa, Clary, whoa," Alden rushes.

"Not that kind of stripping, dumbass," I return. I let my shirt drop to the floor, turning and allowing Alden to look at my back.

"Holy shit," he breathes, standing. I glance over my shoulder at him, his hand hovering just above my back. "Can I?" I nod, shivering slightly as Alden runs his finger over the scars. "Holy shit, Clary. Who did this to you?"

"My dad."

Alden spins me to face him, demanding, "_Aaron _did this?! What the fuck!"

"No! God, no!" I rush. "No, Will Dixon."

"Who the fuck's that?"

"My biological father, the one from before all this. He used to beat Daryl and I. He died in the beginning. And then there's other scars that came from the Governor. It was after all that shit when Aaron adopted me."

Alden's hand drift from my shoulder, brushing the edge of the bandage on my arm. "What the hell were you doing? Getting hurt like this?" He circles me, gooseflesh following his fingers as he runs them down my side and stopping at the bandage covering the brand. "Wasn't this an X? What caused that?"

"Do you really wanna know?" I question, putting my shirt back on.

"Of course," Alden says. He sits on his bed again, and this time, I join him. "Clary, I want you to tell me everything. I don't want you to hold anything back."

"Before I begin, I need you to promise me something," I say. "I know you, Dad, Jesus, Maggie, and Daryl have your little group where you discuss my wellbeing. I'm not stupid, and Jesus told me that you were the one that told him about Carl. I need you to promise me that what we say here, in this room, stays between us. I need you to not tell _anyone_, no matter who it is or why you're telling them, what happened."

Alden debates it, weighing his choices, before sighing. "Okay. My lips are sealed."

I take in a breath, struggling to find the confidence to begin. Alden takes my hand, starting to give it a reassuring squeeze, but I pull it away before he can. "I'm sorry," Alden immediately apologizes. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's not you," I tell him. "You… you don't know what these hands have done."

Alden reaches over, taking my hand again despite my utter of protest. He squeezes it with both of his, holding it close to his chest. "I don't care," Alden whispers, leaning towards me. "Clary, we both know what we mean to each other. That can't change. It _won't_ change." Alden lifts one hand from mine, resting it under my chin and tilting my head up to meet his eyes. "So tell me who hurt you."

* * *

Alden's silent for a long time after I finish my tale, covering the events that occurred since Jocelyn's arrival in Alexandria. He clears his throat, and I feel my throat start to tighten as I fear his judgement.

"It's what you had to do."

"What?" I question, incredulous.

"It's what you had to do," Alden repeats. "They would've killed all those other kids, Michonne, the baby. Daryl. You had to do something about that… _Children of the Corn_ cult."

"I killed _children,_ Alden," I say. "There is no excuse for that, like what I did to Kober, to Wyatt. My hands are _soaked_ in blood."

"Maybe so, but it's not the blood of the innocent. Will you try to think about it that way?" I open my mouth to protest. "Please, Clary? Will you do it for me?"

That goddamn "for me" card. I hate it when he plays it. I'll always cave when Alden asks me to do something for him because he knows that there's nothing I'm not willing to do for him.

"Okay," I agree. "I'll try."

Alden smiles, but it fades after a moment. He questions, "What'll you tell Aaron? He'll see the brand."

"A version of the truth, I suppose," I reply. "I am a liar, after all. A liar that teaches. It's who I was and it's who I still am."


	11. Who We Were

**X: Who We Were**

_**~Clary~**_

"Ain't nothin' out here but mosquitos and ants," I mutter to myself with a huff.

I can hear Merle's voice in the back of my head, telling me to have patience. "_Sooner or later, a squirrel's bound to scurry 'cross your path."_

Judith wanted to go hunting, so we took a small group consisting of Rosita, Eugene, Laura, Judith, Aaron, and I out. We split off so as not to startle any prey, but we stay within shouting distance of each other.

I can see Aaron just off to my right, the sunlight glinting off of his metal arm. He gives me a small wave when he sees me watching him. I always keep an eye on my father when we're out here. In the seven years that have passed since he lost his arm, he's learned to work with the disability—but that doesn't mean that I can't worry about him.

I look to my left, seeing Eugene, Rosita, and Laura walking towards me. I smile when I see Eugene has a deer thrown over his shoulders—we won't be going back to Alexandria empty-handed. I whistle, and Slick trots over to me. I bring him into the woods with us in case we get a kill, leaving the other horses with the wagon on the road.

Aaron jogs over as Eugene's group meets us. "Nice one, ponytail," I compliment.

Eugene thanks me with a nod, starting to hoist the deer off his shoulders. We all spin at a gunshot, which is immediately followed by more. "Judith," I whisper, realizing that I haven't seen her for a few minutes.

The others take off towards the source of the shots, and I swing myself onto Slick. We race past the others, trampling through the woods. I shout, "Jude!"

* * *

_**~Magna~**_

The dead snuck up on us from nowhere, surrounding our boxcar rig and killing Bernie. I push my way into the herd, but there's too many of them. I turn back to the others at the camp, shouting, "Run!"

I push my way back through the herd to reach the remaining four, watching Yumiko tackle a sicko away from Connie, stabbing it and then another when it tries to grab her. The dead sicko falls on top of Yumiko, and she cries out as she lands. We circle around her, Yumiko pressing a hand to her bleeding head.

"This is it, stand me up," Yumiko rushes. "We need to fight."

Luke and Connie pull her to her feet, Luke supporting Yumiko. The sickos are converging in on us from all sides, and we press further back, keeping Yumiko in the center since she's injured. Luke questions, "Mag, what do we do?"

"Circle up," Yumiko decides. "Knives up, we fight."

"No, let's just open up a seam, okay?" I counter. "We've gotta get out of here."

The others agree, weapons drawn as the sickos close in. Gunshots ring out from the woods to the west, the sickos dropping without a missed shot. A girl, who can't be much older than ten by the sound of her voice, shouts, "C'mon this way! It's clear!"

"Go!" Luke screams. "Go, go, go!"

We take off running through the woods, Luke pulling Yumiko to her feet again when she falls. We skid to a halt when we meet our savior, a young girl with a sword on her back and a gun in her hand. I put an arm out to keep Kelly behind me, knowing that little kids, even one that just saved us, can be dangerous.

The girl holsters her weapon, questioning, "You got names?"

"I'm Magna," I introduce myself. "This is Connie and Kelly, Yumiko and Luke. What's yours?"

She steps forward, picking up a hat from the ground. As she does so, she tells us, "Judith. Judith Grimes."

"Jude!" a female voice shouts, and all heads turn as a black stallion bursts through the woods. He's massive, snorting as his rider stops him between us and Judith. Atop his back rides a woman in her mid-twenties, a crossbow strapped to the back of the saddle. Raven hair is pulled back in a braid that stops near the small of her back, her grey eyes piercing right into us as she spots us.

_This rider is Death,_ I immediately think. _Hell follows her around like wet on water._

She draws a gun on us—a six-shooter revolver, a Colt Python. She growls, "Who the fuck are you?"

The rider has a hint of a southern drawl in her voice, like one that was once much more prominent but has faded over time. Judith doesn't have a drawl like the rider does, I notice as she says, "Clary, they're alright. I saved them."

The woman, Clary, lowers the Colt just a bit as she looks down at the child. Her voice softens as she questions, "You alright, kid?" Judith nods, and I see Clary tense as Judith puts the cowboy hat on her head. "We gotta get back."

"But—"

"Judith," Clary interrupts. "You know how your mama runs things. It took her years to even _consider_ letting Dad and I serve as ambassadors. We _need_ to stay in contact, and all of that goes away if they come back with—"

"Clary! One of 'em's hurt!"

Clary looks back to us, studying Luke as he supports Yumiko. "Alright. You answer my questions first."

"Okay," I say, and the others nod. "What's your questions?"

I catch sight of a burn scar along Clary's forearm as she holsters her revolver. Scars are scattered all over her. A set of two run parallel at her temple and a third on her opposite cheek. A scar about two and a half inches long marks her neck. I can only guess what her skin looks like beneath her clothes. The horse skitters, impatient, as Clary looks down at us. With an icy gaze as cold as hers, I don't want to know the things she's seen and done.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

"I think we've all lost track," I reply, answering for everyone.

"How many people have you killed?"

We all give our answers, all varying. Kelly speaks for Connie.

"Why?"

We tell her. Self defense, saving each other. Mercy.

Clary nods, then jerks her head towards Yumiko. "She can ride with me." No one moves. "I ain't got all day."

Luke helps Yumiko up onto the back of Clary's horse, careful of the crossbow. She directs Yumiko to put her arms around her waist, looking at her over her shoulder. "Don't die on me, alright?"

"I'll do my best," Yumiko replies.

"C'mon, guys," I say, tugging us after Clary. She prods the toes of her boots into her horse's ribs, spurring him on. They trot ahead of us as we walk through the woods, and I hear shouting not very far from us. "Judith!" a woman shouts.

"Jude!" a man yells.

"Clary!" a second man yells.

Judith runs ahead to meet them, and a tall man with a prosthetic arm kneels in front of her. "Judith, what happened? Are you okay?" he asks, and I recognize his voice as being the second man. "Where's Clary?"

"I'm here, Daddy," Clary says as we reach their people. She glances over her shoulder at Yumiko. "Hang onto Slick. He'll keep ya steady."

She slides off, and Yumiko scoots up, holding onto the horse. Slick starts to turn his head back towards Yumiko, but Clary catches him, pointing her finger as she warns, "Behave, asshole."

Slick snorts, but he does what Clary says and keeps Miko steady. The tall man—Clary's father—stands, wrapping her in a hug as he questions, "You alright? What happened?"

"You worry too much," Clary tells him. It's a total 180 from when we first met Clary. She was cold as ice, hard as stone. Now, as I see her interact with her people, I find that she isn't nearly as cold as I thought that she was. In fact, she's much softer. "We're alright. Judith saved some folks."

He turns to look at Judith, starting, "Jude…"

"I heard them calling, Aaron," Judith says. "They needed our help."

"Our rig," Luke says. "It got overrun by sickos. We owe our lives to Miss Grimes here."

"They still need our help."

Clary mounts her horse again, backwards this time to face Yumiko. She hands her a canteen, and Yumiko immediately starts drinking while Clary studies the wound on her head. She reaches into one of her bags, emerging with a cloth that she wraps around Yumiko's head. "That's gonna have to do for now," Clary says.

"We can't, Judith," a woman says.

"Rosita," Clary warns.

"You know we can't, Clary! You know how Michonne is!"

"I, uh, I dabbled in the culinary arts," Luke rambles, gesturing to the deer that the guy with the ponytail carries on his shoulders, "once upon a time ago—"

"Luke," Kelly tries.

"—I could whip that buck into a mighty fine osso buco."

"Stew," Ponytail says. "We make stew. More mileage for the masses."

"What?" Yumiko questions.

"You'll get used to Eugene," Clary comments, sliding off of her horse as she offers her canteen to Kelly. "Everyone had to."

"Wait, there are more of you?" I question.

"Way more," Judith answers. "With walls and—"

"Judith," the blonde and Aaron say at the same time.

Kelly warns, "Incoming!"

"Shit," Clary curses, unsheathing her knife with the rest of us. Instead, Eugene and the blonde push forward, killing the few sickos that have found us.

"There's more on the way," I warn, knowing the herd is following us now.

"There's more here," Clary returns, even more stumbling out of the woods. "Laura, 'gene, get back!"

Eugene backtracks away from the approaching sickos, Laura taking one down before joining him at our line of defense. Clary pushes through us, drawing her gun. There are six sickos that are staggering towards us, and Clary shoots them down one after the other. Luke glances towards her, commenting, "Nice shooting, Doc Holliday."

"'I'm your Huckleberry,'" Clary returns. "We gotta get out of here." She turns to Aaron, Judith right beside her. "Dad, they need our help. Yumiko needs Siddiq, or else she's gonna die."

"If they don't go, I don't go," Judith declares.

"I second that," Clary adds. "No them, no me."

* * *

_**~Aaron~**_

"I might remind you that what we're doing is a direct and flagrant violation of the current security protocols," Eugene says yet again, for probably the fourth time since we got back to the wagon and took off for Alexandria.

"Yeah, we know," Rosita says.

"Take the hoods off," Clary orders, sliding off of Slick now that we're at the gate. She raps her knuckles again the South Gate, calling, "It's us."

The quartet that walked back all share a look, Kelly saying, "Can't be worse than Jones Springs."

"Just like Jones Springs couldn't be worse than Coalport," Magna shoots back.

"Oh, god," Luke groans. "Coalport was a fossilized city of shit."

"You'll be safe here," Judith says, extending her hand for Magna to take. "I promise."

Kelly interprets for Connie, who grins a bit at Judith's innocence. Luke grins as Magna places her hand in Judith's, allowing the little girl to lead them into the community. The new group looks around in wonder, and Clary turns to walk backward as she makes the introduction.

"Welcome to Alexandria," she says. "Where they provide mercy for the lost and vengeance for the plunderers."

"'They,'" Kelly notes. "You said 'they.' You're not from here?"

"We're from another community like this one," I tell them.

"Is it just as amazing as this one?" Luke questions.

"Better," Clary answers. "Although, I suppose I'm biased." Luke chuckles as Clary turns to the people that have come to gawk. "Hey! Someone get Siddiq!"

I glance towards the playground as Gracie, who has spun around at Clary's voice, starts to run towards us, calling, "Hi, Daddy!"

"Gracie, stay where you are, okay?" I call. "We'll be there in a second."

Siddiq must've already been on his way, slowing to a stop as he reaches us, a few of the fighters behind him. "Are you hurt?" Siddiq asks Clary, his hands on her arms as he gives her a quick once over. "You called for me."

"There's another one in the wagon," Rosita tells him. "Female with head trauma. She's conscious."

Rosita takes Siddiq back to the wagon to check out Yumiko, Magna trying to follow when he decides to immediately take her to the infirmary. That causes DJ to step forward to stop her, resulting in even more tension between the Alexandrians and Magna's crew. That's when Michonne comes riding through the gate, dismounting her horse as soon as she sees that there are new people.

She makes her way forward, the crowd parting for her. She looks to DJ, inquiring, "You want to tell me what this is?"

"Five unknowns," DJ answers. "They're all clean, one's heading to the infirmary."

Michonne stalks along the line up of unknowns before returning to Magna and patting her down. "All clean?" Michonne repeats. "You sure about that?"

"They're whistle-worthy," Eugene affirms. "Clean as a-wise. They surrendered their weapons willingly and submitted to standard frisk procedure."

"Michonne, I checked 'em myself," Clary says. "They're clean if I say they're clean."

"So why are they here?" Michonne questions.

I glance at Clary. "It was our call."

Michonne looks at us. "That is not your call to make." She looks pointedly at my daughter. "You're not in charge. You don't even live here anymore. You're lucky to serve as ambassadors, and now, I'm beginning to regret that decision. In fact, Clary, I seem to remember you making a big deal about people making calls that's not theirs to make."

I haven't seen anger in Clary's eyes this way for a long time, if ever. I cover Clary's mouth with my hand before she says anything. I know it's not something she'll regret, chewing Michonne out, but now's not the time. Still I warn Michonne, "Don't talk to my daughter that way."

Saving the day before Michonne can reply, Judith interjects, "It was my call. I decided. They needed help."

Michonne sighs, knowing she can't go off on her daughter like she did on mine. "Judith, you know the rules," she sighs. "You all do."

"Thing is, they're here now," I say. "And one of 'em's badly hurt. Siddiq's checking her out, but… look, no disrespect, but maybe their fate is we should decide together."

"It'll be dark soon," Gabriel chimes in. "First thing tomorrow, we can bring them before the council for a vote."

"Alright, put them in holding," Michonne decides, stepping through the crowd. She pauses when she reaches Clary and I. "For the record—" Michonne looks away from me, down to Clary. "—you've already shown me disrespect."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"You still pissed about yesterday?" Aaron questions as we lean against opposite sides of a hall in the back of the church, able to see the rest of the council, the newcomers, and the Alexandrians as they file in for the council meeting.

"Hell yeah, I am," I reply. "Michonne ain't listening anymore. I'm gettin' tired of this shit. Dad, I don't wanna give up, I don't wanna disappoint Jesus, but we're wasting our time here. We both know that. Michonne keeps getting worse, and it's only a matter of time before they're completely closed off. I can't keep pulling the 'I loved Carl' card forever. It's the only reason we're here now."

"I know," Aaron sighs. "I know. Look, when we go home tomorrow, we'll talk to Jesus about it, alright?" I nod in agreement. "Alright, c'mon. I think they're getting ready to start."

Aaron and I take our seats at the council table, and Aaron nods to Gabriel, signaling that we're ready to begin. Gabriel turns to face the crowd as he says, "As you can probably tell from our turnout here, it's been a long time since we've seen new faces inside these walls. We're a fair community of decent-minded people, but we are not soft. And that's not going to change today. So let's begin. Which one of you is the leader?"

"What makes you think we have one?" Magna counters.

"Fair enough. Did you know each other before?"

"No," Luke answers. "It was Magna and Yumiko first, and then Connie and Kelly, and then me, and then Bernie."

"I'm sorry, who's Bernie?" Laura questions.

"Shit," Luke sighs, bowing his head. "Uh, Bernie was the one we lost yesterday."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I say. Luke gives me a nod of thanks. "Before, were there more of you?"

Luke nods, tears coming to his eyes as he speaks of those that they lost. "They didn't, uh, they didn't make it."

I reach across Aaron's lap for his remaining hand, but he's already reaching for mine. It's been years since we lost someone, years since we lost Eric, too. I know we both still feel the pain every time we look around our old house, the one we still stay in while we're at Alexandria. Aaron gives my hand a squeeze before questioning, "Who were you before?"

Luke replies, "Me, before all this? I was a music teacher."

"Waited tables at a truck stop," Magna answers.

Connie signs her answer, leaving Kelly to speak it. "She says she was a journalist," Kelly tells us, "but she's just being modest. She exposed a bunch of sleazeball politicians and put 'em behind bars."

I grin, leaning over to Aaron. I whisper, "I like her."

Connie signs something, and Kelly interprets, "Uh, Connie says thanks and wants you to know that she can read lips."

"Oh, well, that is good to know," I deadpan, then wink at Connie. Kelly lets out a small laugh as Connie grins.

Aaron questions, "And you, Kelly? Who were you before?"

"I was in high school," Kelly says with a shrug, "stressing about stupid shit that felt like the end of the world."

Gabriel smiles softly at the group before us. "Who are you now?"

"A fighter," Magna answers.

Kelly grins at her sister. "Connie says she's my guardian angel, but really, it's the other way around."

Luke ponders it for a moment. "I guess… I'm still a music teacher? Education never ends, not even in the face of monsters and mayhem."

"What did you do to survive?" Gabriel questions.

"What I had to," Magna admits. "Anything I had to."

"She says she never gave up, but me, I grew up."

"I don't really know," Luke stammers. "I don't think I did anything special. I-I-I don't know what I did to deserve it."

"Why you deserve to be here and others aren't," Siddiq expands.

I glance toward him, resting my other hand on his. "Don't do that," I whisper. "Just don't."

Luke nods in agreement with Siddiq's statement, continuing, "At first, I was just lucky. I was in the right place at the right time, and then I met the right people. Here's the thing, it's funny, but… before all this, if you saw us sitting at the same table at a bar or a restaurant or something, you'd say to yourself, 'Well, hey, I don't know. Maybe these people work together?' Because we certainly don't have anything in common, except for the fact that we're breathing. And that's a lot nowadays, right?"

"Thank you," Aaron says. "If that's everything, I'd like to motion for a vote."

I begin, "I second—"

"I have a question," Michonne interrupts.

"The chair recognizes our fellow councilperson and head of security," Gabriel says.

Michonne stands. "As a community, we want to be kind. We want to be generous. We want to be charitable. But, as we know, decisions like the one we are about to make can come with a heavy price."

At that, Michonne shoots a look at me. I open my mouth to retort that Jocelyn was _her_ friend, but Aaron cuts me off with a shake of his head. Michonne leaves her seat at the council table to stand in front of Magna. She requests, "Can you show me your left hand?"

Aaron stands, a hint of warning in his voice as he questions, "Michonne, what are you doing?"

Magna refuses to give Michonne the satisfaction of looking at her as Michonne removes her glove. "Huh. You get that at a truck stop?"

"Screw you," Magna hisses.

_Yeah, she's alright with me._ Aaron and I get to our feet, venturing over to look at what Michonne's found. "What is it?" Aaron questions.

I recognize those markings. I used to see them on the guys Merle would run with. "Oh, shit," I sigh because I like Magna. "I'm so sorry for everything that's about to happen."

Aaron looks at me now. "Clary, what is it?"

Michonne looks expectedly at Magna. "You wanna tell him? Or should I?" Magna doesn't speak, and Michonne holds up her hand. "It's a prison tattoo. The four dots represent the walls, the one in the middle is you. Hard time."

Aaron argues, "Look, just because she was a prisoner—"

"I can explain," Magna interrupts.

"Oh, you wanna tell the truth?" Michonne challenges.

"Yes."

"And you have nothing to hide?"

"Nothing."

"Then put the knife on the table."

Murmurs run through the crowd as Magna removes her belt buckle, part of it sharpened into a small knife about two inches long.

"I remember," Michonne says, projecting her voice as she looks around at the Alexandrians in the meeting. "And I know that you do, too. So go ahead. Take your vote." Michonne turns on her heel to leave, walking past Magna's crew and then the Alexandrians. "I second the motion."

"Hey!" Magna calls after her. "Can I ask _you_ a question?"

"No," Michonne snaps.

"You _don't _remember!" I shout after her. "Oscar! Axel! You don't remember 'em, but I do!"

Michonne pauses at the doors. "Tread carefully, Clary. You're already on thin ice."

With that, she turns and walks out, letting the doors swing shut behind her.

"I knew some good people who were in prison when the shit hit," I say. "I remember them. Oscar died saving Glenn, Maggie, and I. Axel was killed for no reason. They were _good men_. And I look around, and the only other person that knew them just walked out the door. She doesn't want to accept what I know." I look over at Gabriel. "She seconded the motion. Let's vote."

* * *

_**~Luke~**_

I know I should be with the rest of my group, but I can't help but stop on my way back when I hear music drifting from one of the houses. I climb the steps, knocking on the door. A moment later, once the piano has stopped, the door swings open. "Luke," Clary says.

"Oh, this is your house?" I question. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, really. I heard someone playing."

"You were a music teacher," Clary recalls. "I assume you play."

"Well, it's been a while," I admit.

Clary steps aside, gesturing to the piano. "C'mon in. Show me what you got."

"You sure?" I question.

"Get in here."

I enter, taking a seat at the piano. I know it's been a few years, so I start playing "Fur Elise," knowing it's easy. My fingers flow as if it's only been a day, getting back into the swing of it as easily as riding a bike.

"Oh, 'Fur Elise'? Seriously?" Clary questions. "Yawn. What kind of a music teacher were you? Don't you know anything more exciting?"

"Something like this?" I question, giving her a grin as I start to play "Dancing Queen."

"No, no, no," Clary says, shaking her head as she sits at the top end. "Something like, uh, like this."

I chuckle as I recognize "Smooth Criminal." I nod my head in time, watching her. As she's finishing the chorus, I say, "I think I got something for you. Let me up there."

Clary stands, and I slide up, taking over and switching to "Mess Around." Clary laughs, "Oh, I got you."

She takes the lower end, glancing at the keyboard every now and then but otherwise looking at me. I remark, "Oh, you _can_ play, can't you? Why don't you take the top?"

"Gladly," Clary says. "Pardon me."

She runs her finger across the keys in a glissando as I go around her, taking the low end. She laughs, grinning as we continue playing. I glance over at her, but my eyes land on her father leaning against the wall. I stop playing when I realize that Aaron's watching, unsure of how he'll react to me being in his home despite him voting for us to stay. Clary stops a moment later, glancing over her shoulder. "Oh, hey, Dad."

"You look like you're having fun," Aaron says. "Luke, Magna was looking for you."

"Until next time, Doc Holliday," I say, offering her a mock salute as I get up from the piano.

"See you around, Wyatt Earp," Clary replies. I start to leave, glancing back at the two as I let myself out. Clary glances up at her father before playing a tune that I've never heard, but he recognizes it.

"That's one of Eric's songs, isn't it?" Aaron questions, and she nods. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Come upstairs so we can talk."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I lean back against the footboard, wrapping my arms around my knees. "What do you think of them?" I ask.

"Of Magna?" Aaron questions.

"Her whole crew."

"Well, I don't really know Yumiko. Luke, he seems like a good guy."

"He reminds me of, like, a mixture of Jesus and Siddiq. Maybe a little bit of Alden in there."

Aaron chuckles. "Yeah, I can see that. Hey, speaking of, how are you since he and Enid got together?"

"Dad! I am not crushing on Alden! We've been over this."

"Denial ain't just a river in Egypt," Aaron teases, to which I roll my eyes.

"It was one _real _kiss, years ago in the heat of the moment. The only other ones were for the plays at the Kingdom. Nothing more. Alden and I are friends, nothing more. Now, can we get back to what you actually wanted to talk about?"

"Fine. Let's see… I like the sisters for sure—Connie and Kelly. They're honest."

"It's… weird. Kelly's my age. When this started, we were supposed to be stressing about tests and prom and college down the road."

"Would you have taken Alden to prom?"

"Dad."

"I'm not sorry."

"Dad, it's not… it's not that world anymore. We can reminisce, but if we live thinking that someday we're gonna go back to that world... we're gonna die. It's a thing of the past, proms and college. Kelly and I… we grew up. We're twenty-seven now—"

"Hey, you've still got another month."

"We're twenty-_six _and for the past twelve years, we've been worrying about surviving." I glance down. "I like that whole group. Magna, she… when the shit hit, we got a new slate. Who we were… we got a new start. I know I did. Magna knows how to take care of herself. She's creative, and that's kept her alive. We need that group, and they need us."

"Cheyenne, are you sure about this?" Aaron questions.

"If you and Dad… if you hadn't brought those of us from Georgia into Alexandria, we would've just kept going. We should've stayed on the road. We would've kept _losing_. We were already halfway dead when you found us. That's what happened to them. They're what we would've become. They're _us,_ Dad. We needed Alexandria, and we had it, but they didn't. They need it now. We can't turn them away. Deanna didn't turn us away."

There's a knock on the door, and I get up before Aaron can reply, saying, "I'll get it."

I open the door, surprised to find Michonne standing on our doorstep. She asks, "Can we talk?"

"Of course," I reply, holding open the door for her.

"Oh, I don't want to leave Jude and RJ for long," Michonne says. "Can we talk over there?"

I nod. "I'll meet you over there. I gotta tell Dad I'm leaving first." I close the door as Michonne goes back to her house, and Aaron comes down the stairs. "That was Michonne. She wants to talk, so I'm gonna head over to her place. I'll be back later. Don't wait up for me."

"Don't stay too long," Aaron says. "You need to sleep. We're riding back to Hilltop tomorrow."

"You got it," I say, slipping on my boots. I head just down the street, leaving our house behind. I glance down towards Negan's cell, and I see him watching me as I approach the stairs. He drawls, "Good evening, beautiful."

"Fuck off, Negan," I reply, then shoot him a grin. "I'll be down to chat in a bit. It's been a while."

"I'll be waiting—I've missed our talks," Negan tells me. "You didn't come by the last time you were here."

"I know, I'm sorry. This shouldn't take too long." I climb the stairs to Michonne's house, the door unlocked for me. I step inside, calling, "Michonne?"

"Kitchen," she replies. I walk into the kitchen, where she sits with RJ as he eats. I look down at him, smiling softly. "RJ, say hi."

"Hi, Clary," RJ says before going back to his meal.

"You get bigger every time I see you, kid," I say. I look up at his mother. "What's going on, 'chonne?"

"Magna," Michonne says. "I don't know what to do with her group."

I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the counter. "Well, you seemed pretty sure at the council meetin' earlier."

Michonne sighs. "She showed up here to give me _another_ knife she had stashed away."

"She's creative as hell, I'll give her that."

"Clary."

"Michonne."

"She lied."

"I lie."

"That's different. You're not her."

"And you haven't given her a chance. We've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. She's not any different. They're us. Can't you see that? We're all one and the same."

"If you're so trusting of them, maybe you should take them."

"Excuse me?"

"I'll send 'em to the Hilltop with you. They're not welcome here."

"We're not afraid of new people at Hilltop. Dad, Gracie, and I'll ride home at first light, let 'em know so we can get their living arrangements ready. Oh, and you don't have to worry, 'cause we won't come back to Alexandria. You don't listen to your council, just like Rick. That shit doesn't fly back home, and we don't want to send ambassadors to places it does. You give us Magna's crew, and you can keep Alexandria isolated from everyone else. We'll trade. We'll communicate. We'll build the new world without Alexandria. We don't need you that badly."


	12. Look to the West

**XI: Look to the West**

_**~Rosita~**_

"Ro!"

I whip my head up at Eugene's shout, looking at him at the top of the water tower, way above me.

"Herd!"

I rush to the fence, spotting first walkers to arrive as they exit the woods. I turn back to Eugene. "Get your ass down!" I shout. "Now!"

I run to get our horses hitched to the wagon as Eugene makes his way down, but they break free and run off. "Shit," I hiss. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Eugene's still over halfway up. I run to the wagon, searching the back of it for weapons and my bag. I get my bag, slinging it over my shoulder when I hear Eugene shout. I turn to find him on the ground, clutching his knee. "Eugene!" I exclaim, running to his side. "Can you put weight on it?"

"That's a seriously painful negative," Eugene responds. "The herd must've flipped a hardcore U on the DL."

I take off back to the wagon, recalling the shovel in it. I run back to Eugene with it, getting him to his feet as I tell him, "Use this as a crutch. We gotta go."

We take off into the woods, just trying to get ahead of them. I know that with Eugene's injured knee, we'll never outrun them before he tires out. We're right at the edge of the river, Eugene starting to fall behind. "Come on!" I encourage him.

Eugene pauses for a moment, leaning back against a tree.

"Damn it, they just keep coming," I remark, running back to Eugene. "Come on! They're catching up. Let's go!" I grab his shirt, but he doesn't come with me. "Eugene!"

"I'm holding you back," he replies. "And I cannot keep on keeping on. I'll gladly distract the dead while you vamoose, but… there's something I've been working up the testicular gravitas to tell you, something I've been holding inside of me for a really long time."

"Shut up!" I bark. "Don't make this weird. We are making it. Come on! Now!"

I grab him more forcefully this time, shoving him in front of me towards the river. The walkers aren't far behind now, their numbers increasing as they venture further into the woods after us. "Down there," Eugene suggests, pointing towards a part of the river bed.

There's enough foliage that it's hard to see through, and we can cover ourselves with the mud. Yeah, it'll work.

"Let's go," I agree, nodding. Eugene tosses his shovel down before sliding down the bank. I follow him down, our feet just brushing the water as I shovel mud on top of the two of us. It doesn't take much for us to completely cover ourselves—that's the easy part and it's done.

The hard part is staying calm and quiet as the herd passes by right above us.

"_Where… are… they?"_

It's just growls, I tell myself. Their growls have sounded like random words before, and it's just a coincidence that it's a fucking sentence this time.

_It's just the usual growls, it's just a coincidence,_ I repeat to myself.

_It's never a coincidence_.

"_They must be close."_

I'm not hearing growls now. I'm hearing whispers.

"_Don't let them get away."_

Eugene and I look at each other. I have to fight the urge to scream—the dead just _spoke._

The dead are speaking.

They're speaking, and they're _looking for us._

* * *

_**~Aaron~**_

We ride a little farther than the spot where Jesus occasionally meets us on our way back to Hilltop, and I urge us into the trees, planning to ambush Jesus. I slide off of my horse, leaving Gracie and Clary on Slick. Within a few minutes, Jesus is approaching, not really paying much attention to his surroundings.

Clary leans down towards me, whispering, "You want this one?"

I put a finger to my lips, telling the girls to keep quiet. I take off at a run, launching myself at Jesus and tackling him off his horse. He lets out a shout of surprise as we fall to the ground, rolling before he pushes me off of him. We get to our feet, Jesus grinning when he sees that it's me.

"Rule Number One," I remind him, both of us in a fighting stance as we circle each other. "Always be mindful of your surroundings."

"Actually," Jesus corrects, "Rule Number One is don't forget to look up."

I glance up, realizing that I fell for his trick when he starts to kick me. I can't help but laugh, Jesus's grin spreading as we both trade and evade punches. He grabs my arm, twisting it behind me. It causes me to cry out, and Jesus lets go, shoving me away. He compliments, "Not bad."

And then we're back at it again. Jesus catches my arms again—the metal arm has its disadvantages. I jerk my arms free, hitting Jesus in the face in the process.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," I quickly apologize. "You okay?"

Jesus quickly checks his nose to make sure that it isn't bleeding before kicking me in the stomach. He gets in another kick before I knock him to the ground, but Jesus is ready. He swipes my legs out from under me, and he gets to his feet at the same time. I pant, looking up at Jesus above me. "You heard me coming again."

"You're still a little heavy on your left foot," he teases as I get to my feet. "Oh, we're still going?"

"Of course," I reply, but neither of us get a hit in. Clary appears out of nowhere, tackling Jesus to the ground. They roll, Clary coming out on top and sitting on his chest. She quips, "I always thought Rule One was cardio."

"Shut up," Jesus laughs, pushing her off of him. Gracie brings Slick into the clearing, giggling at the sight before her. She still rides with Clary, but no one wants to be the first to say that she'll have to start riding on her own horse soon.

"And what do you think you're laughing about?" Jesus demands, turning to her and dramatically places his hands on his hips, causing her to laugh harder. "Oh, is that how you're gonna be?"

Jesus grabs Gracie, and she squeals as he drags her down from Slick. "Daddy!" she cries, reaching for me.

"Nope, you're on your own," I reply. Gracie doesn't need my help or Clary's—she gets herself free from Jesus's grip on her own and pushes him back to Clary. Clary knocks him to the ground, standing victorious above him. Jesus sighs in defeat, reaching up for Clary's hand. She takes it, but before she pulls him up, she questions, "You surrender?"

"Nope!"

Jesus tugs her down, rolling on top and sitting on her legs. Clary struggles, but she can't her legs free to wrap them around Jesus and flip them like she normally does. "Oh, come on!" Clary cries.

"You're done, poppet," Jesus says. "No thighs of betrayal this time."

"Why? Scared of getting beat?"

Jesus grins. "Maybe a little."

* * *

_**~Rosita~**_

"_She's dead."_

"_But we're getting closer to her."_

"_Run, Ro! Leave me here! I'll be alright! Don't come back until they're gone!"_

The dead's whispers, Eugene's pleas. They're loud, so loud, in my ears as I run through the forest.

I swear, I can hear their whispers even though there's no one around.

"_Don't let her get away. Find the other one."_

The leaves don't rustle, branches don't snap. I'm alone for now.

"_Get her!"_

I nearly collapse against a tree, hanging onto it for support.

I can't breathe. I can't take another step.

I collapse to the ground, everything going black.

* * *

_**~Aaron~**_

"I don't suppose Michonne has changed her mind about the Fair?" Jesus inquires, turning back to me after passing his canteen down to Clary, who sits on the ground with Gracie.

"You're kidding, right?" I retort. "She won't even put it to a revote. Not since she tanked the first one with the Council. Things with Michonne have been even more rocky."

"It's gotten rockier every time we go," Clary replies. "I'm sorry, Paul, but the relationship with Alexandria can't be salvaged. This was the end of our embassy. Michonne's forcing Alexandria into isolationism, and Alexandria doesn't want that. She shoots down anything that involves going outside the walls."

"Like the new people?" Jesus guesses.

"She doesn't even know about Maggie going with Georgie. When I went to tell her, all I said was 'Georgie' and she shut me down. There's no way in hell Alexandria will be at the Fair."

"The Fair's important. Not just for the Kingdom, but for all of us. We have to come back together." Clary looks down, and Jesus takes her hand. "Hey, look at me, poppet." She looks up, and Jesus pulls her up off the ground to sit beside him on the log. "I'm not mad about Alexandria. I'm honestly surprised Michonne let you guys in that long."

"But you're right though. We _need_ to come together."

"But Michonne won't listen to anything," I say. "She—"

I cut myself off as I spot the flare. Clary, Gracie, and Jesus turn, following my gaze. "Clary," I order, "take Gracie and get to Hilltop."

"Be careful, Daddy," Clary says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Gracie does the same while Clary kisses Jesus's cheek. "You too, Paul. Watch each other's backs. C'mon, Grace."

They get on Slick, heading for Hilltop, while Jesus and I ride in the direction of the flare. We slow to a stop when I spot someone collapsed against a tree, sliding off our horses. I glance around, making sure there's no threat in the immediate vicinity as we hurry towards her.

"Rosita? Rosita, hey," I say, kneeling beside her and resting my hand on her cheek. She's covered in dirt, most of the mud dry, and blood covers the right side of her face, trickling down from her temple. "Rosita, are you okay?"

"Aaron?" she questions, opening her eyes as she comes to. "What are you…"

"Where's Eugene?" I question. "I know you two left together. Where is he?"

"I left him in the barn," Rosita answers.

"What barn?"

"I don't know. I left him."

"Aaron," Jesus warns, tapping my shoulder. I glance up, and he points towards a handful of approaching walkers. "We have to get her to Hilltop."

"Eugene's still out here," I object.

"It'll be dark soon. Whichever barn he's in, we have to hope he'll be safe until tomorrow. C'mon, let's get her up and go."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

My crossbow twangs, and a moment later, a bolt sinks into a tree, killing the snake slithering up it. I pass my crossbow back to Carol, and she stands back as I go to claim the prize. I cut the snake's head off before pulling my bolt out and slinging its body around my neck.

I use the same bolt that I used on the snake to kill the walker that's tangled in the brambles.

"You're just gonna leave him there?" Carol questions.

"Keeps the animals away," I reply.

"You've been out here longer than I thought you'd be. I mean, hell, you got a dog. It's been longer than you said you'd be out here."

"Yeah, I like it. Dog does, too. It's quiet." I maneuver around the next set of brambles, kneeling below a branch as I take the rabbit out of the snare, resetting it as Carol and I converse. "How's the King?"

"He's having a hard time letting go. I'm taking Henry to Hilltop. He wants to apprentice at the smithy."

"Well, I appreciate your visit," I tell her, returning to the path with my rabbit in hand. "You seem real good. You gonna tell me why you're really here?"

"I want you to come with us," Carol replies, handing my crossbow back. "I can't stay at Hilltop. We've got problems of our own at the Kingdom, and I'd just really feel a lot better if you were there with him."

I raise an eyebrow. "You want me to babysit your boy?"

"It's not like that."

"How is it?"

Carol shrugs. "Henry's an idealist, just like Ezekiel. I love that about him, I do. It's important, but… it can be dangerous, too."

"No," I say with a shake of my head. _I can't go back._ "He's gonna have to learn, just like everybody else. Just like you and I did."

I step around Carol, starting down the path back to my camp.

She doesn't follow me.

I don't even have to look at Carol to know she's disappointed. To know that she's hurt by my refusal.

_God, I'm fucking great at hurting everyone, aren't I?_ I think.

I pause, sighing. Carol's won, but there's still something holding me back. I turn back to Carol, admitting, "I don't know if I can face her."

"Who?" Carol questions.

"Clary. We got in a fight—a _bad_ fight—the last time I saw her. That was three years ago. I wish I never would've said what I did. I don't know how she'll react, seeing me again."

"That's a chance you gotta take," Carol tells me, stepping closer until she's right in front of me. "It's _Clary_, Daryl. Have faith in her. Years have passed, maybe so, but… she's still your sister. Just take a leap of faith."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Yeah, that's it, you've got it," I tell Gracie after she plays a few measures of a song I've been helping her learn on the piano. "Wanna run it again?"

Gracie shakes her head. "Can you play 'Stairway'?"

I scoff. "You never get tired of that song, do you?"

Gracie grins. "Hey, you say it all the time. Zeppelin rules."

"You got me there," I admit. "But not as much as…"

"Metallica!" Gracie finishes.

"That's my girl."

"Tell me about them again."

"About how Daryl got me Metallica tickets as an early fourteenth birthday present and I cried?"

Gracie nods, and I sigh softly. This time of year is always hard, right around the time my brother kicked me out of his life. I want nothing more than to go out there and find him, apologize for the fight, and bring him back to Hilltop, where I know that he'll be safe.

I wrap my arms around myself, brushing my fingers over the tattoo on my hip in his handwriting. "Maybe not right now, Gracie."

"Oh, right," she says. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I assure her, giving her a gentle smile. "Alright, 'Stairway.' You wanna help me out?"

"I'll take the left hand," she volunteers. We start at the beginning, Gracie playing what I would normally play with my left at the lower end, while I play the melody of "Stairway to Heaven." I glance over my shoulder when the door opens, Kal rushing inside Barrington. I quickly stand, Gracie faltering before stopping altogether. Kal reports, "They just got back. They're in the infirmary."

"Infirmary?" Gracie repeats, shooting to her feet.

"C'mon," I rush, feeling the same panic that shines through in her voice. I grab her hand, and we rush past Kal, out into the night. I pull my adopted sister down the steps with me, our hands still linked as we sprint through the Hilltop.

We bound up the steps to the infirmary trailer, and I wretch open the door. We enter, spotting Aaron first. In unison, we exclaim, "Daddy!"

"Girls!" Aaron replies, opening his arms as we each take a side, hugging him.

"Are you okay?" Gracie questions, looking up at Aaron.

He nods, and I ask, "Dad, where's Jesus?"

Aaron jerks his head towards the other part of the infirmary. "Over there. He's okay, too."

Satisfied that Dad's okay, I leave Gracie with him, dashing off towards where he said Jesus was. Jesus is leaning against the wall by the door when I enter, wrapping me in a hug when he sees me. "Good, you made it back safe."

"Talk to me, Goose," I say, pulling away. "What's going on?"

"It was Rosita," Jesus explains.

"Just Rosita?" I ask, my stomach contorting in fear. "I saw her leave with Eugene."

"He's hidden in some barn, she said. That was all Rosita could tell us before she passed out. We would've looked for him, but we were risking losing daylight before making it back here as is, without even looking for Eugene. We're going out tomorrow to look."

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, clutching Rosita's hand in mine. "Enid? How's she looking?"

"She'll be okay," Enid answers, glancing up from where she fluffs Rosita's pillows. "She just needs to wake up, but I wouldn't expect that to be until tomorrow."

"I'll stay with her," I volunteer. I look down at Rosita, gently combing my fingers through her hair. "I'll stay with her tonight. And tomorrow, we find Eugene."

* * *

I stayed with Rosita all night, dozing on and off. Enid wanders over to check on me in the morning. She questions, "Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?"

I go to reply, but I cut myself off when I hear something in the near distance. I know that sound, I'd know it anywhere. Enid questions, "Clary?"

"Did you hear that?" I ask, getting to my feet.

"Hear what?"

"The bike. Daryl's here."

I rush past Enid, hurrying out of the infirmary as the gate closes behind the wagon that's entered Hilltop. I slow to a stop when I see him, his back to me. He still wears the winged vest, though one of the angel wings has come off. I want to run to him, but I can't bring myself to.

I'm hesitant as I call, "Daryl?"

He pauses from where he was taking his crossbow off of his bike, then turns to look at me. He sees the hesitation, the uncertainty, and I see it in him, too. "I'm sorry," he says.

I start down the path to meet him, Daryl moving to meet me in the middle. Just before I reach him, I'm overcome with the relief that he's alright and we're together again. I can't hold myself up, starting to fall to my knees, but Daryl's there. He catches me, holding me up as he wraps me in a hug.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, for hurting you."

"Just don't tell me to leave again," I whisper, "and we'll be okay."

Daryl presses a kiss to the top of my head, starting to release me. I can't let go quite yet, hugging him tighter as I fight tears of relief that he's finally here. "I love you," I tell him. "I need you here, Daryl. I need you. I need my guardian angel."

"I'll stay with you," Daryl promises. I let him pull back this time, and he sighs softly as he wipes away the tears that fell. "Look at you. Your hair's gotten so long."

"And you still have that vest," I return. "My God, do you ever wash that thing?"

"Shut up," Daryl laughs.

"If it isn't my favorite Dixon," Tara says, grinning as she approaches Daryl, her arms spread for a hug.

"I always knew I was your favorite," Daryl tells her, hugging her as she kisses his cheek.

I give Carol a hug as she approaches, a teenager trailing behind her. "Holy shit, kid," I say, looking Henry over—it's been a little under a year since I last saw him and he's had a growth spurt. "You got tall." I glance back to Carol. "What are y'all doing here?"

"Not that it isn't a pleasant surprise," Jesus quickly adds, reaching the group and joining in the reunion.

"Henry," Carol answers. "He's taken a stubborn interest in blacksmithing."

"Well, I think we can help with that," Jesus replies. "Earl always needs more hands."

"Good to see you, Carol," I tell her, giving a quick wave as a goodbye. Jesus remains to talk with Carol and Henry, while I rejoin Daryl. Aaron approaches, leading his horse and Slick, passing the armor I got from the Kingdom to me.

"Thought I heard a bike," Aaron tells my brother as they embrace. "Finally, the feral man-child returns home."

"Keep talking like that, I'm gonna leave again," Daryl retorts.

"Daryl," I scold, tightening my armor one last time.

"I'm kidding," he promises. He gestures towards Aaron and the horses. "What's going on? Is something up?"

"We found Rosita outside the walls yesterday," Aaron replies. "She's pretty banged up."

"She's here?"

Aaron nods. "And Eugene's missing. We're headed out to go find him. I was getting ready to come find Clary, 'cause I figured we'd need her tracking skills."

"We could always use another tracker," I offer.

Daryl nods. "Yeah, of course."

Daryl glances back towards Carol, who gives him an encouraging nod. We get ready, Jesus taking Tara's place in the search party since he knows the terrain better than she does. I climb up on Slick, Aaron and Jesus on their horses, and Daryl kickstarts his motorcycle. He shouts for his dog, who barks before taking off out the gate ahead of us. I take the rear of the group, glancing back towards Hilltop as the gates close behind us as we head west.


	13. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**AN: I'm behind. I apologize. I'll upload the next chapter right after this one so I'll be back on track.**

* * *

**XII: For Whom the Bell Tolls**

_**~Clary~**_

"It ain't right," I mutter, staring at the herd in the valley. They're just walking in a circle, as if there's some invisible force corralling them together. "It's creeping me out. I don't like it."

"There's about a hundred thirty, hundred forty of 'em," comes Daryl's voice from behind us, causing me to jump.

"Jesus Christ," I sigh, getting to my feet. "Scared the hell out of me."

"You ever see 'em do this before?" Jesus questions. The question is directed at all of us, but he looks to Daryl, as he's spent the most time out here.

"No," Aaron answers for us all, shaking his head. "Never."

"Rosita's back trail goes right through 'em," Daryl reports. "We should get the horses, circle around, then we'll pick it up on foot."

"What about them?" Aaron asks, looking up at my brother.

"What about 'em?"

"They're just milling around," Jesus observes. "That's not… it's not normal."

Daryl agrees, "No. No, it ain't."

I reach beside me, taking his hand on instinct. Daryl looks down at me, slightly surprised that I'm taking his hand when I'm scared, just like I used to.

"C'mon," he tells me, helping me to my feet and not letting go. "We should go. There's a storm coming. Dog!"

Dog barks, running and watching up with us. Aaron and Jesus follow a minute later, taking one last look at this strange herd.

* * *

_**~Magna~**_

The Hilltop is what I expected it to be, with big walls like Alexandria and fields of crops all around it. What I didn't expect was for it to be so empty. The fields are deserted, plows left in place as if everyone just up and left.

Luke turns around from where he rides in the front of the wagon, asking, "You guys seeing this?"

"I see it," Connie signs. "But I ain't getting excited."

"Don't," I warn, signing the word so Michonne doesn't overhear, as she's overly fond of eavesdropping.

"Let me know if they seem suspicious of us."

"I'll let you know when it's safe," Kelly promises.

We near the gate, Michonne and Siddiq slowing their horses to a stop as DJ stops the wagon. I move closer to the others, whispering, "Be ready."

"Be patient," Miko returns.

"If it were me," I say, scanning the top of the wall for lookouts, "I'd have you up on that wall ready to shoot an arrow at anyone I didn't like the looks of."

"What's not to like about us?" Luke jokes. "We're a solid looking group. We're scrappy."

A woman, her bow already notched with an arrow, appears. Luke sighs in defeat, realizing he's lost. The woman demands, "State your business."

"We're here for Rosita," Michonne answers.

"We met your messengers on the road, Dianne," Siddiq pipes up. "They told us what happened."

The archer, Dianne, questions, "And the others?"

"They're good people looking for a home."

_Oh, so now you think we're good people?_

"I told them Hilltop would consider taking them in."

"Clary said they were riding ahead yesterday," Siddiq adds, a hint of worry in his voice. "They didn't make it?"

"They did," Dianne says. "Clary was with Rosita all night."

Dianne lowers her bow, but she still doesn't give the okay for us to enter. Instead, she looks expectantly at us. Michonne sighs before disarming herself of her katana and gun, Siddiq dropping his weapons minus the annoyed sigh. Everyone else does the same, but I'm not so willing to give up my knives yet again. Yumiko faces me as I hiss, "I just got these back."

Yumiko doesn't say anything, knowing that I'll prioritize their safety over my knives in this kind of situation. I throw the case that holds them out of the wagon, and it lands on the ground next to Kelly and Connie's slingshots.

The gates open, and we enter on foot. A handful of people meet us, including a girl Clary and Kelly's age, a blond wielding a machete between her and a brunette woman. Michonne approaches the brunette first, asking, "Tara, where's Jesus?"

"Out with the search party looking for Eugene," Tara answers as Siddiq walks off with the younger girl. I presume that she's their doctor, as they immediately start conversing about Rosita's state as they head for one of the trailers.

"Eugene's missing? Since when?"

"I dunno," Tara says with a shrug. I like her, she's not a fan of Michonne either. "I thought you would. He went out with Rosita, but he wasn't with her when we found her. She was unconscious when she got her, but Enid says she'll be okay."

"If she's been out the entire time, how did you know Eugene was with her?"

"Aaron told us," Tara answers.

"And where is he?"

"Aaron—and Clary, too, since you're concerned—are with Jesus and Daryl. Daryl came down from his mountain with Carol and Henry. It's like the old gang's back together."

"Which way were they heading?"

"You can pick up their trail," the blond interjects, "but you're not gonna catch 'em before nightfall."

"You're forgetting what the Dixons can do when they're together, Alden," Tara teases. "Knowing Daryl and Clary, they're probably on their way back already."

"I thought Clary's last name was Raleigh?" I whisper to Yumiko and Luke.

"I think she's adopted," Luke whispers in reply.

"You can have your weapons back when you leave tomorrow," Tara promises Michonne. "As for the rest of you, you're gonna have to wait until Jesus gets back. And if you want to stay, I'm gonna have to talk to him. And you're gonna have to earn your keep."

Connie pushes forward from the back, signing her thanks as Kelly follows her to the front. Kelly says, "She says thanks. We all do."

* * *

_**~Jesus~**_

"When they first came to Alexandria, Daryl couldn't stay inside the walls for very long," Aaron tells me, watching Daryl and Clary up ahead. The two dance around each other, both clearly wanting things to go back to the way it was but afraid of hurting the other. "Clary always asked me to keep an eye on him outside the walls. He asked me to keep an eye on her when he was outside."

"Prefers it out here, I suppose," I muse.

"Sounds like somebody else I know."

I chuckle. "No man is an island. He couldn't stay out here alone. I was never out here alone."

"Yeah, you were. When we met you."

"I mean recently. You know, after Rick. We used to be explorers. The whole world was ours to rediscover."

"Well, we were out looking for people. That's what Eric and I did. Offered them a chance to be a part of something bigger. Because of you, we were able to find each other. Maybe showing those people a way forward is the next step in that."

I sigh, as Aaron's been one of the many that have been trying to get me to embrace the leadership role since Maggie left just over a year ago, leaving me to be elected for the past two elections. "I just don't think that I'm—"

"I do," Aaron interrupts. "I know you'd rather have Clary lead, especially since she helped Maggie. But Clary doesn't want it and Maggie chose you. The people did, too. They want you, Jesus. I think you'd be a damn good leader if you'd just _stop_ fighting it."

"You think that's what I'm doing?"

Aaron sighs. "Look, he's spent a long time keeping people away, but finding them… that's kind of his thing. Maybe one day, he'll stop fighting it, too."

"You hear that?" Daryl questions as he and Clary stop, signalling for Aaron and I to stop as well. Daryl looks down at her, waiting for her to confirm that she hears whatever it is that he's noticed past the rushing of the wind. She gives him a nod, and Daryl turns to us. "The herd, it's coming for us. The wind is carrying the sound."

Clary passes him the kitchen timer from her bag without a word. He winds it, pitching it far in the opposite direction. Daryl decides, "Let's put some ground between us and them."

"C'mon, let's go," Clary urges, pushing Aaron and I ahead of her as Daryl and Dog lead us into the woods. We stay near the edge, waiting and watching through binoculars for the herd to appear. Within minutes, they've come over the crest of the hill and are moving along through the field.

I lower the binoculars, glancing back towards Daryl. I ask, "You put that herd around a hundred and forty, right?"

"Yeah," Daryl nods.

"Looks like more than double that now."

"Could be a different herd," Aaron proposes.

"Or it merged with another one," Clary counters.

"Ain't gonna be there very long," Daryl says. Just as he does so, the timer must go off, as the herd starts to turn away. "Don't matter how big it is, so long as it's going the other way. Come on."

Daryl turns and walks away, Dog following ever faithfully at his side. Aaron leaves a few seconds later, while I continue to study the herd.

"Paul?" Clary questions from beside me. "You coming?"

"Yeah," I say after a moment, looking away from the herd, still unable to shake the feeling that something's _really _wrong with it. I take the hand she offers. "We shouldn't stay here. Let's go."

* * *

_**~Henry~**_

"Hey, Huckleberry!" a voice calls from above me, and I look up to see a trio of teenagers on a rooftop balcony. "We gotta cheer you up, man. You're depressing the hell out of us."

I shake my head at the nickname, but I join them nonetheless. The one that spoke approaches me first, introducing himself. "Hey, I'm Gage."

"Henry," I reply.

"I remember you here during the war," Gage recalls. "The kid with the stick."

"Yeah, that was me. It was a long time ago."

"You were the one that the Orphan was always protective of."

"Gage," the girl warns.

"What? It's what she went by then. It's better she's watching out for Huckleberry over here rather than that damn Savior she likes so much."

"Alden's alright," I say, jumping to his defense. I still remember Alden from when we first met him, how Clary immediately saw he wasn't one of the Saviors, how he tried to protect me that night the walkers were in Hilltop. "But you don't call Clary 'the Orphan.' No one does. She's not that person anymore. It was a long time ago." I push around Gage, not wanting to stay on the topic of the war any longer. "You're Abby, right?"

"Addy," the girl corrects as I shake her hand. "With a 'D.' It's short for Adeline."

"And this is Rodney," Gage says as I shake the last teen's hand.

"With an 'R,'" Rodney adds.

"Shut up," Addy groans, adjusting her glasses.

Gage gestures to the circle of lawn chairs, and we each take a seat as he tells me, "We've been watching you mope around down there. Addy here is seriously worried about you."

"I never said—" Addy starts to protest, then cuts herself off, turning to me. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "Yeah, I just… it's a new place. Getting used to everything. You know."

"I don't, actually," Gage says. "I've lived here for more than half my life."

"Same here," Addy adds. "How's that for sad? At least you get to go someplace new."

"Have you ever been to Oceanside?" Rodney inquires. "Is it really all women?"

I nod. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Damn," Rodney sighs. "I should become a fisherman."

The other two laugh, and I can't help but grin. Gage proposes, "Hey, you should hang out with us tonight. Yeah, we've got a place in the woods. We could show you what passes for fun around here."

"Out in the woods?" I repeat, confused. "I thought they shut the gates down at sundown."

"You're telling me you never snuck out of the Kingdom? Dude, come on! Look, whatever's got you down, it's not worth it, alright? You just gotta keep moving forward. Life's too short."

I sigh. "Alright. Let's do it."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

We all draw our weapons as we reach the next barn, our flashlights shining more on the fog rather than lighting our way. Even so, it's better than total darkness, as the storm clouds have completely obstructed the moon.

Dog pauses at the entrance to the barn, waiting for Daryl's permission to enter. "Go on, boy," Daryl urges. "Go find him."

Dog takes off, nose to the ground as he searches the barn. He climbs atop a pile of loose hay, whining and pawing at the ground. We follow Daryl into the barn, and he gestures for Dog to move. He jumps down from the hay, trotting over to meet us. I kneel beside him, scratching his ears, as I tell him, "You're a good boy. Oh, yes, you are."

"You done?" Daryl teases.

"Here, I've got it," Jesus says, pulling his sword away from the hay. "I think there's a latch under there."

"Eugene?" Aaron inquires as I get to my feet, joining them.. "Are you in there?"

I hold my breath as I wait for the reply, not sure what I'll do if Eugene isn't in there. But his reply, however muffled, comes through the floorboards. "Affirmative."

I let out a sigh of relief as we begin to frantically brush the hay away. Eventually, we find the door, pulling to open and shining our lights down on Eugene. He's shaking, terrified with his knife drawn. We get him out, and he grunts as he momentarily puts weight on one knee. Aaron and I kneel at his side as he sits, back to the wall.

Aaron questions, "Eugene, are you alright?"

"I took a bad step and dislocated my knee," Eugene replies. "There was a herd on our six, and Rosita was forced to stash me here."

"If it's dislocated, we can just pop it back in," Daryl says.

"No," Eugene objects, frantically shaking his head. "We have to get out of here. The herd that followed us here is on its way back."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I question. "Herds don't just up and flip a u-ie. They ain't comin' back, and Daryl and I've been keepin' track of 'em."

"Yeah, we saw their tracks," Daryl adds. "They're gone."

"No, it's not," Eugene argues. "It's already been through here twice. It's looking for me."

I sigh, "Eugene, you know walkers ain't that complex."

"I know what I know! And I know that we have to get away before it comes back." Eugene's breaths shake, and I find myself wondering if I should believe him. "This wasn't a normal herd."

I look to Daryl to gauge his reaction, but he's unreadable. He's thinking, though, I can tell that much. Aaron questions, "What do you mean?"

"When they passed us by, we could hear 'em. They were… they were whispering to each other."

"Eugene, I've been stuck in the middle of a herd as they passed by," I tell him, still able to feel the asphalt beneath my palms, Sophia's terrified whimpers beside me. "They didn't whisper."

"I heard it!"

Aaron clears his throat. "You mean they were talking?"

"I know how it sounds. I do. But Rosita heard it, too. She'll corroborate."

"We should get him back," Daryl suggests.

We all nod in agreement, but Dog's barks tell us that we're about to need a Plan B. Aaron scrambles to his feet, rushing to the window, as the growls reach us. He turns back to us, telling us, "It's a herd."

"There's no way that's the same herd," Daryl protests.

"They got us cut off."

"So we'll backtrack, go around 'em."

"Old Route 28 isn't far," Jesus notes, forever our expert on local maps. "It's the straightest shot back to the horses."

"Old Route 28 it is," I agree, helping Aaron get Eugene to his feet. He then supports him as we head for the door, cutting through the woods to reach the road. I take point, leading Aaron and Jesus as they support Eugene between them. Daryl covers our asses with Dog at his side, and we pause as we come to an intersection with an abandoned car. Eugene sits on the hood, taking a moment to rest and prop his knee up.

"It doesn't make any sense," Jesus rants. "They shouldn't have doubled back like that. And they _definitely_ shouldn't have followed us all the way to the barn."

"I do have a theory to posit," Eugene chimes in. "The walkers are evolving."

"Oh, that's bullshit," Daryl says.

"They're dead!" Jesus protests. "They're not evolving!"

"Being dead hasn't exactly stopped them from perambulating ad infinitum, though, has it?"

I snap, "English, Eugene!"

"They're not dead in any sense that makes sense. It takes an impact to the cranium to stop them, which means the brain is alive, degraded as it may be. And if it's alive, it can change. Maybe even start to remember things, too, like _how to talk!"_

"No, no!" I exclaim. "In Atlanta, Jenner said that they don't have the ability!"

"Maybe Eugene's got a point," Jesus sighs. "It's not any crazier than the dead being alive in the first place, right? If they can learn to talk, maybe they can learn strategy and how to hunt."

"So what, they're like velociraptors now?" I question. "Hunting in a fucking pack?"

"Or in a herd."

"Alright, so say a couple evolve. They learn. They steer the herd and use the ones that haven't evolved to hunt us down. I'd say it doesn't make sense, according to Jenner, but they're right on our asses. We gotta get to the horses."

"You have to leave me behind," Eugene decides. "I'm slowing you down and tiring you out. Every time we stop, the dead get closer."

"No!" Jesus protests. "We came out here to find you! We're not going home without you!"

"You don't have a choice."

"It's not your call. The numbers actually work for us. We can split up. Aaron, Daryl, Clary, you get him back to the horses. I'll wait for the herd to get here, then I'll draw them off in the other direction. I'll ditch 'em and meet you back at Hilltop."

"We're stronger together," Aaron adds.

"That doesn't help us. Our only way out of this is to avoid a fight!"

"No!" I bark. "The last time one of us split off to draw a herd, he died right in front of me! I'm not losing you, Paul!"

"If anyone stays, it's gonna be me," Daryl volunteers.

"Not alone, you're not," I argue. "Dad, Jesus, get to the horses. Eugene, you take Slick. I'll ride with Daryl on his bike. Hell, we'll probably beat y'all back. But we gotta go _now._"

Aaron wraps me in a hug, whispering, "Hearts still beating."

"Hearts still beating," I confirm, closing my eyes as he kisses my temple. He pulls back all too soon, and Jesus and I squeeze each other's hands as we pass.

"I'll see you back home," he says. "Promise."

"Just look up, right?" I reply, and Jesus presses a quick kiss to my knuckles before we part ways. Daryl and I face each other as the others disappear into the night. He meets my eyes, and I know we both feel the same way. It's been a while since we teamed up like this, but we're back in the swing of it now. We've got each other's back, just like we always do.

Daryl questions, "You ready?"

"The Dixons are together again," I reply, "and nothing can stop us now. Let's do it."

Daryl whistles for Dog, and we take off down the road. We climb up on top of a trailer, Dog directly below us. It's not long before the walkers arrive, Daryl digging in his bag for the firecrackers while I grab my lighter.

"Alright, let's get 'em," Daryl says. I light the firecracker, and he throws it into the middle of the road a few feet away. Dog barks as they pop, effectively turning the herd towards us rather than continuing down the road after Jesus, Aaron, and Eugene. "Dog, keep 'em coming."

"Daryl, Daryl, look," I rush, pointing as a few walkers within the herd turn away. The continue back on their previous route, the rest of the herd turning with them.

Daryl shuffles to the end of the trailer, leaning down and shushing Dog. He stops barking, and I climb down from the roof, stepping into the road to watch them. The herd has completely turned, continuing on as if our distraction never occurred.

_Eugene was right. They're evolving._

"Oh my god," I say. I look up at my brother. "We need to get to the others before the herd."

"Go!" Daryl barks, knowing that I'm itching to run after them without waiting for him. "You're faster than me. You'll reach 'em first. You have to warn 'em! Dog, go with her!"

I take off, Dog right on my heels as I run in the direction that Aaron, Jesus, and Eugene went. Over the sounds of the dead, I can hear them shouting from within the cemetery.

There's less walkers in the labyrinth of the cemetery's walls. They hardly notice me until I'm right on them, killing them and pushing through. I come to a cross road of sorts, the fog too thick to see the ground. "Dog!" I call. "Which way'd they go?"

Dog puts his nose to the ground before barking and taking off in one direction. I follow, killing the walker that he knocked over. We follow the wall so as not to get lost, and I can hear Jesus shout, "Go! I got this!"

I shove a walker aside, able to see the others now. They're at a gate, Aaron and Eugene on one side with—_holy shit, is that Michonne?_

"Jesus!" Aaron shouts. "Come on!"

There's still two walkers between Jesus and the gate, so I draw my knife, preparing to help him. He kills the first one with ease, its body dropping to the ground.

It's my heart that stops when the second one ducks his swing.

Even from where I am, I can hear the whisper as the walker drives a blade through Jesus's heart.

"You… are where you... do not… belong."

"No!" Aaron screams, the blade visible through Paul's chest. As the walker pulls the blade out, I throw mine, striking it in the head and killing it. I catch Jesus as he falls, dropping to the ground with him.

He's already fading.

I can _feel_ his life draining out of him in my arms.

"Stay with me," I rush. "_Please! _I _need_ you!"

"Look up," Jesus says, his voice barely a whisper, before he goes limp in my arms.

"No, no, no, please!" I shriek, searching for a pulse. "No! Paul! No! No, you can't! You promised me! You _promised me_, Paul! You promised!"


	14. Whispers Into Screams

**XIII: Whispers Into Screams**

_**~Clary~**_

They came out from nowhere, all at once.

The dead that speak surround me, knives drawn. Aaron, Michonne, Magna, and Yumiko come to my rescue, forming a circle around me and killing the walkers. It quiets for a moment, Daryl appearing with his crossbow raised. The bolt is missing, stuck in the head of a walker on the ground next to me. He lowers the crossbow when he sees the sight before him, kneeling next to the one that killed Jesus. He pulls my knife from its head, examining the blood on it. "Hey, come here," Daryl says, looking down at the body. "Michonne."

"What is it?" Michonne questions, and I look up, wondering what he's found. Michonne and I watch with horrified fascination as Daryl cuts the string on the back of the walker's head that seems to be holding its skin together. "These walkers, what are they?"

"They're not walkers," Daryl states, holding up the skin mask as lightning flashes, illuminating the dead man below him. "They're living, wearing walkers' skins."

Thunder rumbles, and as it dies down, I hear them again.

"They're trapped," comes the whisper, raspy as if its owner is the one that's dead instead of those they walk with. "Circle around."

"Don't let them slip by," another voice whispers.

"Keep them together."

"Kill them."

"No escape."

"_You die now."_

More of them circle us, and I don't know how many are walkers and how many wear their skins.

I clutch Jesus's body, refusing to let him go, even with the threat all around. The others take them on, keeping a close eye for weapons in their hands. One of the people wearing walker skins charges towards me, past Magna as she's preoccupied with another. I can only squeeze my eyes shut, praying for a quick end as I whisper, "I'm sorry, Alden."

I hear Aaron grunt, and when I open my eyes, he's standing over the one that charged me. He pulls his knife out of their head, turning back to me as he questions, "Are you hurt?"

I quickly shake my head, but I find myself wondering why in what I thought were my last moments, why I thought of Alden. Why _Alden_, of all people? Why him, and not my father or my siblings?

Aaron kneels beside me, his knife still drawn. I realize exactly what he plans to do, and I look up at him with tears in my eyes, whispering, "No."

"We have to," Aaron says.

"Hide it, Daddy," I say, clutching Jesus's body, cradling his head against my shoulder. "Please."

Aaron nods, hiding the wound with Jesus's hair. I sob as he pulls his knife out of Jesus's head, curling my body around his, the whispers of the dead turning into my screams of anguish.

_Please, don't let this be real. God, please, don't make this real._

"Let's go!" Daryl barks. He appears at my side, and we each take one of Jesus's arms, supporting his body between us as we flee. Michonne is the last one out, closing the gate, but I suspect it won't hold them for long.

* * *

_**~Michonne~**_

I glance over my shoulder, making sure the others aren't too far behind. Eugene rides on Jesus's horse, Yumiko with her arms wrapped around Magna on another. Aaron keeps his head down as they ride, not looking at his daughter.

Clary remains on Slick, but she isn't alone. Jesus's body rests against hers, Clary holding him tightly. She holds him, even as he grows cold.

I turn back to Daryl, who walks next to me. Softly, I question, "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"She loved Jesus more than anything," Daryl replies, just as quiet. "He was her go to, her ride or die. Jesus was always her right hand man, even before the war. She'll never be the same. Asking if she'll be okay… it's like asking if I'd be okay if they killed her right in front of me."

Daryl glances over his shoulder, his gaze going right past Clary to Magna and Yumiko. He turns towards me. He knows everyone from Hilltop, and he knows that they weren't at Alexandria when I closed it off. "Judith found 'em, vouched for 'em," I explain. "I was hesitant, but they won Clary over. I'll vouch for 'em, too."

Daryl dips his head in a nod. "Alright."

"It's gonna mean a lot for them," I continue. "Bringing him back. Burying him."

"It's gonna mean a lot for all of us," Daryl says softly. "He's the one that brought all of our communities together." He glances over at me. "Sorry I couldn't do that for you."

I knew that Daryl had been spending a lot of time out beyond the walls, but it's with his statement that I realize that he's only just returned to civilization. He's spent the past seven years searching _everywhere_ for Rick, like he owed it to me. Maybe if I had found him, then maybe Daryl wouldn't have isolated himself so much, felt so much guilt.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do it for both of us," I tell him. "Thank you. For trying to find him. And for after."

Daryl rests his hand on my shoulder, both of us falling silent as we eavesdrop on the conversation behind us. "I wish I'd met him before," Magna says. "Sounds like he was a good one."

"He was," Aaron confirms. "He shouldn't have been out here."

"It's my fault," Eugene states. "If I hadn't—"

"Eugene," Clary interrupts, speaking for the first time since the graveyard. "There are a lot of people I blame for Paul, but you are _not_ one of them."

"Jesus made his own decision," Aaron chimes in. "We all knew the risks of being out here. Knowing we shouldn't be. Maybe what happened was bound to happen."

"Please don't say that," Clary whispers.

Ahead of us, Dog begins to bark. A moment later, I can hear the growls, and Magna warns, "We've got some tails."

"The living kind or original recipe?" Eugene inquires as we peer through the trees.

"Let's find out," Daryl decides. "Good dog."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

We split up, using the covered bridge nearby to make a stand against them. Michonne crosses through the stream below, planning to stay hidden until they're crossing the bridge. I remain on our side, waiting. A few minutes later, they arrive. It's just a few of them, six total, all stumbling across the bridge. I take aim at one, then rethink it, shifting my aim down to its leg.

The bolt passes through its thigh without so much as a whimper from the walker. Original recipe, as Eugene would say.

I quickly reload, picking another as I do so. I raise my crossbow and fire, striking this walker in the leg. Immediately, a man screams, clutching his leg as he falls to the ground. Three walkers, including the first one that I shot, stumble towards him and begin devouring him.

Magna and Yumiko flank me as we make our way towards the remaining two. They turn to flee, but Michonne steps out, sword drawn, at her end. One of them draws a knife and charges at Michonne, but she swipes up, cutting the skin's arm off before killing him.

The second skin draws a knife, putting their back to the wall. They desperately look for a way to escape, but I draw an even larger knife, barking, "Drop it!"

Yumiko and Magna take care of the walkers while I move toward the remaining skin. I can hear their shuddering breaths as they drop the knife and drop to their knees, hands raised in surrender. I stop in front of them, finding wide, terror filled brown eyes staring up at me.

In one quick motion, I reach forward, ripping the mask off.

It's a girl. Just a teenager, within a year of Henry.

"Please," she whimpers. "Please don't kill me."

I toss the mask to Michonne as she arrives. She glances down at the mask before looking to the girl. "How many?"

"Please," she continues. "You killed them all. It's just me now. It's just—"

The girl gulps, cutting herself off, as Michonne lifts the bloodstained katana to her neck. She growls, "I don't believe you."

I glance over my shoulder as I find more walkers arriving, no way to be able to tell how many are living or dead. "There ain't no time," I decide. "We take her with us."

"Are you insane?" Michonne demands.

"No. Trust me on this." Michonne lowers her sword, allowing me to take the girl's arm. "Get up. Let's go."

"You try anything," Michonne threatens, shoving the mask in her face, "you won't have to pretend."

Michonne and I escort her out to where Clary, Aaron, and Eugene wait. I blindfold the unmasked skin and tie her hands together, Clary staring at us the entire time. "You can't be serious," she says. "Why is she still alive?"

"We need answers," I respond. "She has them."

"We don't need shit!" Clary lets Jesus's body slump forward to rest against Slick before she jumps down from her horse. "They killed Paul!"

"There could be more."

"So let 'em come!" Clary snaps, drawing her knife as she starts forward. Michonne takes the girl as I move to hold my sister back. "No! No, Daryl! Let me go!"

"No!" I snap. "We need her alive!"

Clary stops fighting, staring up at me with tears in her eyes as she demands, "What the _fuck_ have you done?"

* * *

_**~Alden~**_

It's been too long since the search party for Eugene went out, especially with the Dixons in the lead. A handful of us made our own search party for the search party, breaking off in twos. Luke accompanies me, wanting to help out since Yumiko and Magna are out there.

I glance over at Luke. He seems a little nervous at being separated from his group for probably the first time in a while. "So, music, huh?" I question, trying to take his mind off of his friends.

"Yeah," Luke says, nodding. "Theory, composition, history—what do you need, man?"

"Well, there's this Fair coming up between all the communities, so music might be nice. You play?"

"Yeah, hell yeah. Violin, guitar, piano, kazoo. You?"

"Oh, I've been known to sing from time to time. When I got enough drink in me, you know?"

Luke laughs. "That's perfect. We're gonna knock 'em dead at this Fair, man."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, two man band. Oh, while we're on the topic, I heard Clary play the other night. She's…"

"Really good," I finish.

"Yeah, she can play. We had a little battle going on until her dad came in."

"Ah, Aaron's a great guy. His husband used to be real into music, so—"

"Eric," Luke interrupts.

"Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"

"When I was leaving the other night, Clary was playing some song. He said it was one of Eric's."

"He died in the war, before I got a chance to meet him. But Clary, she does a lot in his name. It's why she learned to play—to keep his music alive."

"She plays piano, you sing. You two ever do any performances together?"

"Sometimes. When we've got a few good drinks in us, of course. She plays and I sing." _Though we don't drink enough to wake up next to each other with no memory of the night before. We're not doing that again._ "I mean, she's willing to play when we're not drinking, but when we are is when she really shows off."

"So we're not a two man band. Maybe we could be a trio. Do you know if Clary plays anything else?"

"Uh, she told me once she used to play snare, but she hasn't touched a drum in years. She's got piano, you take… violin? Kazoo? I'll sing. Maybe."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Luke suddenly says, halting his horse. I follow his lead, correctly assuming that he's spotted something. Luke gestures ahead to an arrow in a tree. "I'll check it out, you watch my back?"

"You got it," I agree. Luke glances around as he makes his way towards the tree, pulling the arrow out. He waves it to show that he's got it, then turns as a walker appears from behind a tree. I grab my spear just in case he needs help, but Luke turns the arrow in his hand, preparing to drive it into the walker's head.

He stumbles back, though, arms flailing as he falls. I spot the second walker, just a torso clinging to the leg of the first one as it grabs for Luke's ankles. I climb off my horse and throw my spear, and the first walker drops to the ground. Luke quickly takes care of the other walker—killing it with a boot to the face—as I run down to meet him.

"You alright?" I question, offering him my hand. "Come on."

"Jesus," Luke sighs as I pull him to his feet before grabbing my spear out of the walker's head. Luke hits my chest, making sure he has my attention. "Hey, look at us. Symphony of Awesome." He conducts using the arrow at his baton. "Huh? Think about it."

I try not to laugh, wondering what in the hell I've gotten myself and Clary into. Luke cuts himself off as he gets a good look at the arrow. "This is Yumiko's."

"You sure?" I question.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I've seen her build about a hundred of these things." Luke takes a look around, clearly knowing what he's looking for. He turns on his heel, and a grin comes to his face. "And there's another arrow."

I follow him to the other one, pulling it out and passing it to him. "It's hers, too?"

Luke nods. "So she's leaving these for us to find, man. This is a trail."

"Or just a couple stray shots," I counter.

"Well, money where your mouth is, we find a couple more of these that lead to our people, you're gonna sing at the Fair, pal."

I let out a sigh, slightly regretting mentioning it. Luke simply chuckles, using the two arrows to tap out a tempo as he hums. We go silent when we hear the growls, carried by the wind.

I hurry back to the horses, grabbing my binoculars as Luke joins me. I scan the area before finding what I'm looking for. Luke questions, "What do you see?"

"A herd," I answer. "It's a big one. Moving south." I lower my binoculars. "If we get caught on the wrong side of it, we're gonna be out here till morning."

"Okay, so do we go back or do we keep going?" Luke questions. "It's your call, man."

I look around, running a hand through my hair as I think. My fingers brush over a scar on my scalp, a lasting impression of Wyatt and Jed's band of Saviors that refused to follow the right people. They threatened my life then, and I know I wouldn't have made it back without Clary.

Clary, who's still out here. Clary, who's the one in danger now.

"We keep going," I decide. "We find our friends."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Everyone stares as we return to Hilltop, children turning into their parents as everyone realizes that it's Jesus's body on Slick's back. Aaron wraps Enid in a hug, everyone else bustling around me. Tara ventures closer, resting her hand on the entry wound of the blade that killed Jesus before Daryl, Magna, and Yumiko take his body. I look around, searching for the face of the person I thought of in what I thought were my last moments.

I don't see him.

I don't see him, but a male body slams into mine, a pair of arms wrapping around me. For a split second, I think it's him, but I realize it's Marco when he pulls back. There's tears in his eyes as he questions, "Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "Not even close."

Enid appears at Marco's side, and the two of us lurch forward to embrace each other at the same time. Enid whispers, "We were so worried."

"Enid, where's Alden?"

She pulls back to look at me, answering, "He's out there… looking for you guys."

"No," I whisper. I tear away from Enid, turning to where Michonne and Daryl, who has since returned, take the girl down from Michonne's horse. "I swear to God," I hiss at her, watching her flinch at my voice, "if you people hurt him—"

"Not now," Daryl hisses. "Threaten her later."

"Is this who did it?" Tammy Rose questions, watching as they take her past towards Hilltop's cells.

"No," Michonne answers. "One of her people."

Michonne and Daryl march on, and I remain with Tara to decide what to do with her. Tammy Rose continues, "You locking her up?"

"Getting answers," Tara replies.

"And then what?"

Tara doesn't speak right away.

"Tara, Jesus trusted you, so we're all looking to you now. But people are gonna want justice for this. And when that time comes, we're gonna look to you for that, too."

"You should be looking to me," I say. "For justice, not to lead. I never wanted to be the leader, but I will be what I need to be to avenge him. The Orphan's back."

"You'll get justice," Tara promises before walking off to join Daryl and Michonne in the cellar. The people of Hilltop look to me for an explanation, so I tell them exactly what I plan to do. It might not be what Daryl has in mind, but it's what I'm more than willing to do to get my revenge.

"We get answers," I announce, loud enough for everyone in the crowd to hear, "by _any_ means necessary. And then _I_ kill her."

* * *

_**~Michonne~**_

We got nothing out of the girl the first time we interrogate her, not even her name. Only that she claims that all of her people are dead now and they were just trying to live. Clary wasn't there, instead telling the people of Hilltop what happened, but I know she'll be there next time.

I worry about how she's dealing with this. It's been years since she lost someone she cared about this much and she has a tendency to do morally questionable things rather than properly grieve or process her emotions. But nothing worries me as much as what it means that Clary is taking up the mantle of the Orphan again, and what that means for everyone. She'll start a war by herself and make it worse for all of us. She'll put us all in danger, including my people, the ones I've worked so hard to protect.

"I don't trust a word coming out of her mouth," I tell Daryl and Tara as we close the cellar door behind us.

"We'll get it out of her," Daryl says, then glances to where Clary stands in the distance, speaking with Enid, the two clutching each other's hands. "One way or another."

"We'll try again in the morning," Tara decides.

"You'll have to do it without me," I tell them. "I'm taking my people back. We'll have to leave within the hour to keep the light long to get back. I can't risk them not knowing about this back home."

"Okay," Tara agrees, nodding. "Thanks for being here and for helping. That group you brought in, I'm gonna let them know they can stay. Guess it's my call now. That's what he would've done."

"Thanks, Tara."

She gives me a nod before walking off to find Magna. I step closer to Daryl. "Keeping her here is a risk. You know that. We both do."

"Yeah, I know. I'll get her to talk."

"If she doesn't… you know what has to be done." I take another glance at Clary. "And we both know who can do it."

* * *

Aaron hands me one final crate, and I pack it before hopping out of the wagon. I close the back, telling him, "That should be everything. Thank you."

"I'll tell Siddiq to get Eugene and Rosita ready," he replies. I nod, and he starts to walk off. He pauses, turning back to face me. "Michonne… you were right. I didn't see it. I didn't want to. You have everything you need in Alexandria, and we have everything we need here. We should… be inside, protected… taking care of what we have and each other. I know Clary told you we weren't coming back, and she made that choice for a different reason, but… she was right. About not coming back, at least. I'm keeping us here, inside and safe. Sorry I didn't get that until now."

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "For everything. Goodbye, Aaron."

"Thank you, Michonne," Aaron says. He turns and walks away, and I glance over as Dog barks, running past me. I turn on my heel, knowing Daryl won't be far behind.

When I realize he's coming down from the framework of Hilltop's newest building, I say, "Tell me you're not thinking of sleeping up there."

"You mean the penthouse suite? Dog picked it."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. "You know what you're gonna do with that girl?"

"Why is it even up to me?" Daryl questions. He doesn't like to have to do it, to make the choice about the girl's fate. I think it's because she's so young. She's not much older than Henry, if she's older at all.

"Because you're the best damn judge of character I know," I answer. "And we can't let Clary decide. She's in a dark place right now. We both know that. She's not in her right mind. We can't let her make a big decision like this. Without Jesus or Maggie, these people need you."

"They got Tara."

"Tara's smart, but she shouldn't have to do it alone. What we did, bringing Jesus back, it's gonna help them move on. But after that, it's about doing whatever it takes to not bury more."

Daryl dips his head in a nod, agreeing to make the decision on what to do with the prisoner. Siddiq, DJ, and I get Rosita and Eugene loaded up, starting down the Hilltop's path to leave. Right before we reach the gate, I hear my name being called.

"Michonne! Hang on, 'chonne!"

I stop the horses, climbing down from the wagon as Clary runs up. "I had to catch y'all before you left," she explains. "'Cause I ain't gonna see you again."

"Come to say goodbye?" I question.

"Sort of," Clary replies. She faces each person as she addresses them. "Eugene, don't _ever_ change."

"Never," Eugene promises.

Clary smiles softly. "Rosita, _te amo, muñeca._"

Rosita leans over the edge of the wagon, kissing Clary's cheek. "_Te amo más, mi cariña."_

Rosita turns her head, whispering something more into Clary's ear. She immediately lights up, pulling back to look at Rosita, who gives her a small nod. "_Nombrala por mí, mamacita."_

Rosita grins, rolling her eyes as she shakes her head. Clary squeezes Rosita's hand before turning to DJ. "I don't know what all I can say to you, D. You've tried to kill me, I've tried to kill you. But we're cool now. We'll always be cool."

DJ fist bumps her. "We're proof that people can change."

Clary nods, then swallows as she turns to the doctor. "Siddiq… you've honored him. You've _more_ than honored him. Thank you."

Siddiq slides out of the wagon, wrapping Clary in a tight hug. Gently, he warns her, "'Do not send us astray after them.' Don't lose yourself, Clary."

"Pray for us all, Siddiq." A moment later, the two pull apart. Siddiq brushes Clary's hair back before pressing a kiss to her forehead, then climbs back into the wagon. Finally, she turns to me. "And Michonne, I came to give you these."

She pulls a folded note from her pocket, passing it to me. I glance down at it, noticing it doesn't have a name on it. I inquire, "A letter for…"

"Negan," Clary tells me. "It's for Negan."

She takes Rick's Colt Python and its holster off of her belt before handing them to me. I ask, "Are you sure?"

Clary nods. "Make sure Jude gets it. It was Rick's, after all."

"You've used it all this time. Why give it up now?"

"Because I don't need a gun to go after these fuckers."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Kal, Marco," I say, holding out a hand to stop them before they can put the lid on Jesus's coffin. "Can you wait a minute?"

"Of course," Kal says, nodding. "Whatever you need us to do."

I step up to where Paul will lie for the rest of eternity, gently brushing his hair back. I had been the one to take it down when we were preparing for his funeral, combing my fingers through it one last time. "I love you so much, Paul," I whisper. "I'll always be your poppet, no one else's."

I let out a sob, bowing my head. I feel my legs start to give out, and I cling to Jesus's coffin to support myself. I get myself steadied, and I reach forward, touching the ring that I gave to him all those years ago.

It had once belonged to my best friend from before the world ended, and he gave it to me just moments before he died. It was mine then, serving as a reminder of the friend I lost to the horrors of this world. When I thought I was going to die in that final battle against the Saviors, to the next horror of this new world, I passed it on to my new best friend, forcing him to promise me that he'd survive. He only took it when I promised the same, wearing it for years until this new threat took him from me, too.

I take the necklace with the ring from Jesus's body, carefully lifting his head as I take it and put it around my neck once again. Though it remains the same, it weighs heavier on my shoulders now, a symbol now of all I've lost.

I gently put Jesus's head back down, fixing his hair again. I lean down, pressing a long kiss—one last kiss—to his forehead. "I love you so much," I repeat, "more than you could ever have known."

I step back, nodding once to Kal and Marco. Aaron wraps his arm around my shoulders, Gracie taking my hand, as I reach them. I pay them no mind, instead watching Kal and Marco place the lid of the coffin overtop of my best friend, already dreaming through the twilight.

We do it the way we always do when we lose someone here in the Hilltop, though we haven't lost someone for nearly a year. Each of the people closest to them hammers in a nail.

Tara, Enid, Daryl, Aaron. Kal takes Alden's place.

I hammer the final nail in.

The pallbearers lift the coffin, gently placing it in the empty and waiting grave. I stand back, watching them place Jesus in the hole in the ground.

He deserved so much more than what this world gave him. He deserved to make it through this world, into the next one that's supposed to be so much better. He didn't deserve to have a home in the ground.

I look at the many graves around me—too many graves, too many casualties to this world. People I couldn't save, losses I'd give anything to not have to carry. Staring at the open grave before me, I recite, "Those who have crossed with direct eyes, to death's other kingdom, remember us—if at all—not as lost, violent souls, but only as the hollow men."

* * *

_**~Enid~**_

"I need your help."

"You want to go out after Alden?" I question, getting to my feet to face Clary. I didn't even hear her come in the infirmary and can barely see her now as she stands within the shadows. It's a movement of shadows, but she shakes her head. "If you were hurt out there, you should've come to me sooner."

"That's not it either," Clary says, stepping out of the shadows. "I need a haircut."

I can't help but scoff. Here she is, being dramatic in the shadows because she wants to cut her hair. Yeah, that sounds like Clary. "Takes you seven years. Sit down."

Clary claims the chair I was sitting in as I take off to find a pair of scissors suitable for haircuts. In addition to being the Hilltop's doctor, I also cut people's hair whenever they need it, having improved a great deal since I cut Maggie's. I lean down to root through a drawer, questioning, "How much do you want off?"

"All of it."

I stop, looking over at her. "All of it?"

"The braid, cut it off," Clary says as I grab a pair of scissors, making my way over to stand behind her. "I lost, Enid. The new threat's here, and it'll be war sooner or later because of what they took. So it's time for my hair to go."

She falls silent as I cut her hair, cutting off the braid that reached her waist. When I finish, her hair barely reaches her shoulders, and I ask, "Did I cut too much off?"

Clary reaches up to touch her hair, then shakes her head. "No. This is good."

She gets up to leave, but I catch her arm. "Hey. Keep sight of who you are. Don't change into a person that you're not because you lost someone. I know you want revenge, but don't let it consume you."

Clary shrugs my hand off. "I'm gonna go take watch. I wanna be there when Alden gets back. You're welcome to join me, but don't you dare give me a speech about who you _think_ I am."

* * *

_**~Magna~**_

From where I stand on the ground, I can see Clary and Enid above on the watchpost, both waiting desperately for the same person to return. I don't recognize Clary at first with her short hair, but there aren't many people that speak with a southern accent like she does. "C'mon, please, Alden," I hear Clary plead. "Come on! We need you here."

I climb up the ladder, and they both glance over their shoulders to see me arriving. Clary switches out, muttering about how the "Leatherface bitch" might know something as she passes.

"Hey," I greet.

Enid acknowledges my presence with a small wave, then pauses for a moment before turning to face me. "You're one of us now?" I nod. "It's good to have you."

"Thanks." I know the answer to my question, but I think she needs someone to talk to. "What's got you up here?"

"Alden," Enid answers. "He's my… well, I'm not even sure what to call it. It's all so new, so…"

"Yeah, I got one of those, too," I reply, glancing over at Yumiko down on the ground. "Luke's a survivor. Your Alden's in good hands."

"He's…" Enid sighs. "We may be together, but I _know_ in my heart that he's not mine. Alden's in love with Clary, and I think he always has been from the beginning."

"They knew each other at the start?"

Enid shakes her head. "No. There was a lot of things that happened in the early years of this, including a war. We lost a lot around that time, but we gained some good people, like Alden. And then our new world began, the Kingdom run by Ezekiel and Carol, Rick and Michonne in Alexandria, and here it was Maggie with Clary and a council of helpers. Maggie left Jesus in charge when she went to help create a new community."

"Oh, I don't think I met Rick."

"You couldn't have. He died seven years ago saving everyone. That was two years after the war."

"So Alden's been a part of your group for nine years?" Enid nods. "Wow."

"I know. That's a hell of a long time nowadays."

"That's a hell of a long time to be in love with someone without acting on it, too." I glance over my shoulder at Clary down below as she heads towards Barrington, her brother in tow. "And… is she in love with him?"

"I don't know. Clary… she lost something that meant a lot and she hasn't been the same since. So if she does love Alden, I don't know if she'll ever let herself go through with it. But if there's one thing that I do know, it's that Clary will do _anything_ for him. She'll find him and get him and Luke back, one way or another. Whatever it takes."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Who are you?" I demand, marching up to the girl's cell, Daryl at my side. At the sight of us, she scrambles away from the chair she had been sitting in, cowering in the corner furthest from the cell door. She doesn't speak, so I turn to Daryl. "Door."

"Already on it," he replies as he turns the key, ripping the cell door open. He steps inside, towering over the unmasked skin. "Who are you? Answer the question."

"Answer the fucking question!" I bark, slamming the side of my fist into the wall over her head.

"You wanna die?" Daryl questions. "Is that it?"

"Daryl, what's your problem?" Henry questions from within his cell.

"Quiet!" he snaps at Henry, then softens his voice a bit to speak to the girl. "Do you? The people up there just buried a good man. And they are ready to string you up right now with her—" Daryl gestures to me. "—ready to tie you a noose. All we gotta do is drag your ass right up them steps."

"How many are in your group?" I demand. When she doesn't answer quick enough, I grab her by the arm. "Get up!" She lets out a whimper as I haul her up, spinning her and slamming her back against the cell bars. "How many?!"

"Ten!" she shrieks. "Ten! There were ten of us!" It's a lie—there were way more than ten that we killed in the cemetery. "I think. We wore skins to blend in. We didn't have names. I mean, we did, but we didn't use them."

"How long have you been out around here?" Daryl questions.

"I don't know."

The girl shrieks as I pull her away for a second only to slam her against the bars once more. This time, I press my forearm against her throat. "Every time you give me an answer that I don't like," I hiss, "I'll press harder and harder until you die. I have a feeling it won't take long."

"We moved around with the dead. The skins made them leave us alone." That's plausible enough, and I know that it's possible to mask your own smell with theirs. "They protected us, so we protected them."

"You got a camp?" Daryl questions. "Walls?"

"Walls?" she repeats. "Walls don't keep you safe. Places like this don't make it. They never make it. That's how it is. My mom and me, we saw it happen over and over. I barely remember the world before all this. But my mom, she told me how it was changing, how we had to change with it, how we needed the dead and each other to keep safe. We're never alone."

"Why'd your people kill our people?"

She doesn't answer, and I give up on choking it out of her. I draw my knife, the tip of the blade barely an inch from her face.

"We were always gonna kill you, okay?!" she cries. "It's just what people do now! Everybody still alive is a threat! It's us or them!"

I pull my knife away, and she starts to breathe a sigh of relief. I cut it short by throwing her to the ground, bringing my boot down on her chest to keep her pinned. I demand, "How many are in your group?!"

She begins, "I already—"

"Tell me the fucking truth!"

"It is the truth!"

"Don't lie to me!"

From his cell, Henry calls, "Stop it!"

"Shut up!" I snap at him.

"My mom!" the girl admits. "It's just my mom! She's a good person. Please don't go looking for her. Please. She's just one woman, out there alone."

"You said your people were never alone."

"She was at the cemetery. She got separated, but just her."

"You fucking liar!"

"We told you what was gonna happen!" Daryl barks, and we each take one of her arms. She screams, begging us not to kill her as we drag her towards the cell door. Henry exclaims, "Stop!"

"I said shut up!" I roar.

"This isn't who Benjamin fell in love with!"

At that, I drop the girl to the ground. I leave her with Daryl as I exit her cell, marching over to Henry's. I reach through the bars, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him forward, slamming him face first against the bars. "I said shut up," I growl.

"This isn't you," Henry whispers. "This isn't the you that Benjamin loved."

"Let's get one thing straight, kid," I say. "I _never_ loved your brother. He was _nothing_ to me. Nothing to me but a pawn in my war because I needed the Kingdom and all its men. The only good fucking thing he did for me was _die."_

"But… But… Mom said you cried when he died."

"I cried because it was a horrible way to go. I cried because he left a little brother, and I know what it's like when you lose a brother, when you lose the only family you have. That fucking bitch in there, her group? They made me lose my family. So I will get answers in _any_ fucking way I have to so I can avenge Paul. I will get answers because no, I am _not_ the person your brother _thought_ he knew. I'm someone else entirely. I'm the Orphan."

I release Henry, and he falls to the floor of his cell as I return to the Leatherface bitch. "If you won't answer," I growl, kneeling in front of her, "if you keep saying that you know nothin', then you're of no use to me. So come on." I grab the back of her shirt, dragging her behind me. "Let's go let my people have their way. But don't worry, sweetheart, I ain't gonna let 'em kill you—because I'll be the one to kill you."

"No!" Henry shouts. "Daryl, stop her! She's just a girl!"

"I was just a kid when countless people tried to kill me!" I bark. "Only reason I'm still here is 'cause I gave up on being a kid in exchange for life!"

"Just stop!"

"Please, Daryl!" the girl begs. "Please don't let her kill me!"

"Enough!" Daryl suddenly barks. "Enough. Let her in here for a bit. We'll try again another time."

I huff, throwing the girl to the ground and stalking out of the cell. Daryl closes it behind us, and as we go to exit, I warn Henry, "You'd best learn to shut your mouth."

"She's just a _girl_," Henry repeats. "I couldn't let you sentence someone innocent to death."

"She ain't innocent," I growl.

"Don't you have a conscience?!"

"Conscience does make cowards of us all, Henry."

With that, I climb the stairs out of the cellar. Daryl follows behind me a moment later, and I pace as he takes a seat next to the window, waiting to hear if the girl will open up to Henry like we've been hoping.

"—said thank you," the girl's saying. "For saving me."

"I had to," Henry responds. "Couldn't let 'em do what they were gonna do to you. I'm Henry."

"I'm Lydia," the girl says after a moment.

"Nice to meet you."

I glance towards Daryl, who looks up at me expectantly. "You were right," I whisper. "She's talking. Let me know if she slips where Alden is."

* * *

_**~Alden~**_

"You better start warming up those vocal cords, mister," Luke teases, pointing to another arrow stuck in a tree. I sigh, knowing that I've lost the bet we made.

"Alright, we'll see," I retort. "Still gotta find our people first."

We make our way closer to the arrow, and a walker emerges from the woods. It stumbles towards us, growling softly. "I got it," Luke claims, grabbing his crowbar.

I stay close in case there's more, and Luke and I both stop in our tracks when the walker stops in its, the growling ceasing. "You see that too, right?" I question.

"That's definitely weird," Luke says.

We each take another step forward, then halt when we see another of the frozen walkers in the brush to our left. I keep my eyes on that one while Luke looks to our right. He swallows before hissing, "Alden."

I quickly look to the right, finding two more just standing there.

I turn back ahead, and the original walker is closer now. They're walking like the living as they near, rather than the stumbling gait of the dead. In its hand is an arrow—one of Yumiko's. They toss it to the ground at our feet, and my hand tightens around my spear. I feel my heart skip a beat in fear when the walker pulls a double barreled shotgun from a holster behind its back, taking aim at us.

And then, she speaks.

"_Trail ends here."_


	15. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**XIV: Something Wicked This Way Comes**

_**~Clary~**_

"Alden's still not back," I say, not meeting my dad's eyes as I gather my gear. "I thought, you know, maybe they got caught up and would be back in the night, but they're still out there. It's been too long. I'm going out after him."

"Like hell you are!" Aaron exclaims. "Not with the skins out there!"

"Dad, I have no other choice!"

"I'm not losing you out there!"

"I'm not losing _him_ out there!"

"Cheyenne!" Aaron shouts, cutting me off from the front door. "I am not letting you walk out that door! You'll die if you go out!"

"That's a chance I have to take!"

"It's not!"

"Dad, I _have_ to," I plead. "It's _Alden._ I will do _anything _for him. I've _slaughtered_ people to save him. I need him! I…" I pause, but the words roll off my tongue anyway. "I love him."

"Cheyenne, please, don't do this," Aaron tries. "Please, sweetheart, I don't want to lose you, too."

"Clary?" Gracie questions. "Daddy?"

"Gracie! Hey!" I exclaim as Aaron and I turn to look at her. He questions, "What are you doing up? You're never awake this early."

"I heard shouting," Gracie explains. "Clary, what do you mean you 'slaughtered' people?"

I kneel in front of Gracie, but my adopted sister takes a step back. I know that she knows that I can be dangerous—I'm a fighter, after all—but she's never heard of anything I've done in the past. I always made sure of that, made sure that she didn't know what I was truly capable of.

I look down. "Right. I don't blame you for not wanting to come near me, Grace." I lift my eyes to look at my younger sister. "Look, I… it was a long time ago."

That's something Gracie understands—she knows I don't talk about a lot of stuff that happened before Rick died and the events surrounding his death. She questions, "During the war?"

I shake my head. "No. After. It wasn't until the war was winding down that Alden meant something to me. And then, some Saviors went back to their old ways, took Alden. They put us in danger. _He_ was in danger. They tried to kill us. And if it wasn't us, it was gonna be them. So I made sure it was them."

"What did you do?"

"That's grown up stuff, Gracie."

"You said you slaughtered them," Gracie counters. "I heard you. What did you do?"

"Something that wasn't human. I… I killed the first two—" I snap my fingers. "—just like that. Without a second of hesitation. Then one grabbed me, so I tore his throat out with my teeth. And the one that hurt Alden, that nearly killed him? I butchered him. I'm not proud of that person I became, Gracie, and it's because of Alden that I was able to come back, to get better. We wouldn't be here without each other. I did some bad stuff, and he was my redemption, just as I'm his.

"But those… those _things _out there, the things that whisper, they killed Jesus. They killed Jesus and they might have Alden. So I'm gonna need to be that person again. I need to be the Orphan again because it's the _only_ way to keep the people that I love safe. I stopped being the Orphan for years, and I lost Jesus because of it. I can't take that risk _ever_ again."

Gracie is still for a moment before she takes my hands, looking into my eyes. For a nine-year-old, it seems as though she knows more than she should. Gracie asks, "You love Alden, right?"

"Yeah," I say after a moment, caught off guard by the question.

"Then you should be the one to save him," Gracie says. "Like in those stories you read me. Be the knight in shining armor. Go out and save your damsel."

I nod, then stand to face Aaron. "I gotta go, Dad. You can either try to stop me or move aside, but no matter what, I am going out there for him. He's a part of this place. Glenn was right, way back when. 'We can make it together—'"

"'But we can only make it together,'" Aaron finishes. "I know I can't stop you, no matter how much I hate you going out there." He steps aside, but catches my arm before I can leave. "You might not realize it, but I do understand why you're going out. I never said I didn't care about Alden. I just care about my daughter a lot more."

"Well, that's unfortunate, 'cause I care more about Alden than I care about me."

* * *

I slow to a stop when I see Connie abruptly stop out of the corner of my eye, grabbing her binoculars. Tara questions, "What do you got?"

Connie passes the binoculars to Yumiko, pointing in the direction she was looking. Yumiko slowly lowers them, reporting, "Maybe the dead, maybe not. Keep your distance and watch their hands. They could go for knives."

"Don't get too close," I warn. "Use your distance weapons."

We move forward, nearing the two groups of walkers that kneel on the ground, feeding. Yumiko fires an arrow into one of their heads, and they turn, noticing us now. I swallow upon seeing the blood around their mouths, fearing the worst. But I take the fact that they were feeding on raw flesh as a sign that they're the "original recipe" rather than the skins.

I draw one of my knives, throwing it. It impales itself in the head of a walker as a second knife sinks into the head of the walker to the left. I glance towards Magna, complimenting, "Not bad."

"Compare technique sometime?" she responds.

"I'd like that," I tell her. "Oh, incoming."

Magna throws a second knife at a walker as it stumbles closer, and I take down the one that was right behind it. Tara leads Kal and Marco closer, their spears in hand. Tara comments, "Funky walk, check. No weapons, check. Okay."

We take out the rest of the walkers with ease, and I accompany Magna and Yumiko forward to retrieve our weapons. I turn on my heel, kneeling next to the partially devoured bodies below me. "Horses," I announce, resting my hand against one's nose. "They were feeding on horses."

"They're none of the masked ones," Magna reports.

"The horses," Marco says. "These were Alden's and Luke's."

"But no Alden and Luke."

"Maybe they had to bail," Tara theorizes. She turns to Kal. "Check the area. Look for tracks. Stay close."

"Get me if you need me," I tell Kal, and he nods once before taking off. I turn back towards one of the horses as Connie leans down over it, examining it. She looks up, signing something to Kelly. "What is it?"

"Connie says the horses were cut open," Kelly says after a moment. "They were skinned with knives. This wasn't just the dead."

I spin, aiming my crossbow, when a branch cracks behind me. Kal raises a hand in surrender, and I lower my crossbow, but still keep the butt of it near my shoulder. Kal reports, "Plenty of walker tracks, but nothing else."

"No," I say. "They were here. They walk the same as the dead. It's how they blend in."

He offers, "The horses could've been wandering for a while."

"Then we split up," Yumiko decides. "We break in different directions."

"No, no, we stay here," Tara argues. "It's not safe out here anymore. Walkers aren't just walkers. That girl told us it was just her mother, but this? She's a liar."

"I didn't need this to know that Leatherface was a liar," I say, then glance between Yumiko and Magna. "We should've killed her on that bridge. We don't know any more than we did before Daryl took her. The one thing that we know is that there's more."

"Exactly! It's why we can't break off!" Tara excalims. "We don't know how many are out there. There could be three more, or there could be three hundred of them out there. We head back, we stay behind the walls, and we make a plan. Until we find out what this is."

Connie signs a question, and Kelly turns to Tara, questioning, "'And what if we don't?'"

"We will," Tara says. "Let's go."

"Y'all go," I say, putting my crossbow on my shoulder. "I ain't going nowhere without Alden."

"No. No, Clary, you're coming with us."

"Tara, do _not_ make me go through you," I warn, standing toe to toe with Hilltop's new leader. "You know what I've done to get him back before, and _that_ was to people I _didn't_ hate with every part of me. You saw me after, you know what I did to those Saviors that took Alden the day Rick died. What I did will look like child's play compared to what I'll do to these… these skins if I run into them, and that's not even if have Alden."

"Clary, I know you're angry, and I know you're scared," Tara says, keeping her voice soft. "But running around out here—no plan, just vengeance—won't do Alden any good. So come back and help us figure out a plan."

"I can't. I need to find him."

"Tara, let me," Marco says. Tara steps aside, and Marco takes my hand, leading me to the edge of the clearing so we can speak privately. "Clary, I know how you feel right now—"

"You don't."

"—'cause Alden's my friend, too. He's my best friend. I want to find him, just as much as you."

"Marco, you don't understand. Alden's not my friend."

"What?" Marco questions, completely bewildered.

"I'm in love with Alden, Marco. I have been for years, but I never let myself feel it because I didn't want to go through losing the person I love again. And now I'm in danger of losing him without ever telling him I love him. I need to find him, Marc."

"Look, I understand you wanting to go off and look for him on your own. I do. But the reality is that there's nothing around here for you to go off of. So come back with us. You might find something on the way back, and if we don't, we'll plan."

"Okay," I agree. "And Marco? _Please_ don't repeat what I said to _anyone._"

"You got it," Marco says.

"C'mere," I tell him, knowing how worried he gets when his friends are in danger. Marco leans down, resting his chin against my shoulder as I wrap my arms around him. I press a kiss to his cheek, assuring him, "We'll find him, Marc, okay? We will. I promise you, I'll do whatever it takes to get him back."

"Whatever it takes," Marco repeats as he pulls back. "We'll get him back."

We return to the others, and I mount my horse as Marco gives Tara a nod. Tara nods once in response, declaring, "Alright, let's get back to Hilltop. Especially in case there's more out here."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

Enid kneels beside me, careful to keep her shadow from falling over the window and alerting Henry and Lydia of our presence. She hastily scribbles in a notebook before passing it over to me.

_They're back. Clary doesn't look happy._

I give Enid a quick nod of thanks for letting me know, and she stays at the window while I get up to meet those that went searching for Alden and Luke this morning. The gate is being closed behind them as I approach. Marco taps Clary's arm, then gestures in my direction. Clary slides off of Slick, passing the reins to Marco. At the same time, we ask, "Anything?"

"Uh, we found their horses," Clary tells me when I gesture for her to go first. "Connie said they were cut open and skinned."

"No Alden and Luke?"

Clary shakes her head. "No. Anything here?"

"Nothing." I jerk my head towards the cellar. "C'mon, let's go see what we can get."

* * *

_**~Henry~**_

"'Every day's Halloween, baby.' That's what he kept saying, my dad," Lydia says, continuing with her story. "And then… then he just cut his hair. And my mom, she kept playing checkers with me, trying to keep me distracted from it all, I guess. I jumped one of her checkers, and she said, 'Checkmate.' I always responded that was chess." Lydia lets out a small laugh. "He always… she always said that."

"Your mom sounds nice," I tell her.

"Yeah," Lydia agrees after a moment of silence. "Is your, uh, your second mom the person who found you?"

"No, it was my dad, Ezekiel. Second dad."

"Why isn't he here with your mom?"

"They're the leaders of another community. Where I'm from."

"Is it far?" Lydia inquires, curious. "What's it called?"

"It's called the Kingdom. It's probably like a day's ride from here, a little less if you take the Kingsroad." I snap my head towards the doors that lead to the outside as they're ripped open. Keys rattle on a belt as footsteps echo down the stone stairway, and I look towards the cell door as Daryl appears. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Shut up," Daryl growls, unlocking my cell. "You're getting out. C'mon."

Daryl urges me ahead of him, back up the steps where Clary's waiting at the top. Daryl shuts the cellar doors behind us, and Clary grabs my arm, dragging me towards the wall. When she does release me, it's only to shove me away. I stumble, turning back to face the siblings. Clary demands, "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"What the hell were you doing?" Daryl adds, further explaining when I can only look at them in confusion. "Telling her about the Kingdom? What if there's more of her people out there? You got family at the Kingdom!"

"I'm sorry, okay?" I tell him. "I didn't think that it would… wait. You were listening?"

"Of course we were," Clary replies. "Daryl, Enid, me, a few of the others, we've been switching off, seeing what she'd say to your dumb ass. It's a good thing we were listening, too. The hell were you gonna tell her next, huh? How to get into the armory?"

"You two were using me?!"

"Yeah, and it was working, too," Daryl shoots back.

I can't believe them.

"She's a good person who got messed up out there," I declare. "And you know what? She was right about you two. You _are_ assholes. You want answers? Get 'em yourself."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

"You finally come to kill me?" Lydia questions as she turns her head just enough to look at me as I take a seat in the chair outside her cell, Clary at my side.

"Don't tempt me," Clary mutters.

"Stop it," I scold. I dig inside my pocket, producing the pill bottle Enid provided. "It's for your ear. You keep pulling on it like it hurts." I raise the bottle to offer it, but Lydia won't look at me. "No? Alright, I don't give a shit. It's up to you." I lean forward, and the movement causes Lydia to glance towards me. "Two of ours went missing."

"We found their horses, though," Clary chimes in. "Half skinned, half eaten. You know anything about that, Leatherface?"

"How could I?" Lydia retorts. "I've been here."

I sigh softly. "What would your mom do if she crossed some of our people? Would she kill them?"

Lydia shrugs. "She would if she had to. It wouldn't be the first that she's killed 'cause she had to. When we were still in that shelter, in the early days, the one guy we were with started freaking out. He was desperate to get out, banging on windows, yelling and drawing all sorts of attention to us. I remember Mama grabbing him and throwing him on the ground. She choked him to death."

"Did y'all know that we all turn then?" Clary questions.

Lydia shakes her head. "No, but it was how we found out. There were a lot of gunshots outside, too. Daddy tried to keep me from seeing it, hearing it, but I already saw it all. I remember being so scared, and Daddy just held me. He sang me that old song—the one that went, '_Lydia, oh Lydia, say have you met Lydia?'_ He used to sing that to me when I was scared, which was a lot back then."

I question, "How old were you?"

"Five, six. Who knows?"

"Your mom…" I look down, sighing softly. I once threw someone off of a rooftop because they said terrible things were probably happening to Clary, if she wasn't already dead, in those weeks that we were separated right at the start. "Your mom did what she had to do."

Lydia won't look at me, but she nods, tugging on her ear again. I whistle to get her attention, tossing the pill bottle to her. She picks it up, and I tell her, "It doesn't have to be like that, though. There's a lot of good people here. They'll help you if you help them."

For a moment, she doesn't respond. Then, she questions, "Can I have some water?" Lydia steps to the cell door as I get her a ladle-full of water. She reaches for it, but I hold onto it. "What, you think I'm gonna hit you with it?"

When I don't budge, Lydia sighs. For a moment, I think she's starting to reach for the ladle, but I keep a close eye on her, waiting for her to make a move. When her hand darts out to try to grab my wrist, Clary and I move at the same time. As I start to jump back, Clary pushes me back even further, grabbing Lydia's arm. I push her sleeve up, revealing cuts and scars left by a switch along her entire forearm. She wretches her arm free, slinking back into the far corner of her cell.

I take Clary's arm, tugging her with me as we leave the basement. Once we're far enough that Lydia won't be able to hear us, I turn to my sister. "I don't buy a word she's saying."

"Her story doesn't make sense, I agree," Clary says with a nod. "For the most part, at least. Anyone that wears the dead's skins would definitely kill someone like that, no doubt."

"What doesn't make sense is how she was talking earlier, with Henry. Her dad was the one losing it and her mom was the sane one."

"And now she's saying it's the other way around. I think this might be the only time she's told the truth so far."

"Yeah… I think I have an idea. I'll be right back."

Clary watches me in curiosity, taking a few steps to trail after me as I break a thin branch off a nearby tree. "A switch?" she questions.

"The marks on her arm. I'd know them anywhere." I rejoin Clary, and together, we descend back into the cellar once more. Lydia watches us carefully, her eyes darting to the switch as I pull the extra twigs and leaves off. "You know, some dads would come up with any excuse just to beat the shit out of their kids. Maybe they're drunk. Maybe they can't get drunk. Belts are good."

"They like belts," Clary adds, nodding.

"They do like belts," I agree. "But these assholes, they ain't picky. They'll use whatever's laying around. But a good switch from a birch tree… that'll work."

Lydia only stares at the switch now, and I see it in her eyes. It's the same look Clary or I always got whenever Will had a belt in his hand, even if he was just putting it on. She's waiting for the beating, knowing that it's coming.

"Your dad, he sounds a lot like one of those dads," I continue.

"Except," Clary interjects, "the part where he sang to you when you were scared. Those dads… they like it when you're scared. Thing is, that's the only part of your story that didn't sound like all the other bullshit you've been telling us."

"You knew exactly what this was when we walked down here. And those bruises on your arm, they come from a beating. So let me ask you, if you're dad's dead…"

"Then who gave 'em to you?" Clary finishes.

Lydia closes her eyes for a moment before admitting, "My mom."

I question, "Where is she?"

"Be glad you don't know."

"Is that a threat?" Clary demands.

"Where is she?" I repeat. "Where's your camp?" Lydia doesn't answer, and I take a step closer. "Why are you protecting her? Huh? You're safer here."

"With all those people up there that want me dead?" Lydia retorts, then nods towards me. "With her ready to string me up? This place isn't real. The world changed, and you're all acting like it's gonna change back. My mom walks 'cause that's what the dead do. It's their world, and we have to live in it. And what my mom does, she does for a reason."

"Your mom beats you because she loves you? That's bullshit. I love my sister, but I don't beat the shit out of her."

"It's not bullshit," Lydia protests. "When you stay soft, people die. My dad, he got soft. That night that Mama killed that man, he kept holding on to me, trying not to think of it. Every time they moved the sheet that gave us what little privacy we had in that building, I saw that man's body. Later that night, after everyone else was asleep, I got up. It was the first I had really been close to death, seen it—Daddy covered my eyes when the dead would kill someone before we holed up.

"I went up to him, looked under the sheet they covered him with. He didn't look like he was sleeping, the way they always say they do. He just looked dead, so I covered him back up and started to go back to bed. That was when he got up, when my back was turned. I heard the growling, saw him and screamed right as he was reaching for me. Daddy was there, pulled me away, but the man… he grabbed onto Daddy. I can still hear it sometimes, Daddy screaming while the man bit him. I saw it all before Mama grabbed me."

"You were just a little girl," I tell her. "It wasn't your fault."

"I was stupid. I deserved to die. But my dad was soft, and now he's the one that's dead."

"What was he supposed to do? Just watch his little girl get bit?"

Clary grabs onto my arm, and I glance back at her. "Sorry," I whisper to her.

Bites have always been a sensitive spot for Clary—they are for anyone, really. But Clary, she's seen too many people die from bites in front of her. Sam, Sophia, Jesse, Carl—and those are just the ones that I can immediately think of.

"When you can't bend, you break," Lydia says, eyeing Clary now, catching on that she doesn't bend as much as we think she does. "He broke. And you… you're cracking, starting to break."

"That's not true," Clary hisses.

"We're making the world better," I add. "We're building it back up again, changing it back."

"Yeah? You don't belong with these people, Daryl. Maybe you used to, but not anymore. You're hard, they're soft. She's soft. Just look at her! She's starting to break just 'cause my dad got bit!"

If there's one thing that Clary's not, it's soft. She's a survivor, we both are. And these people, I'll always belong with them, no matter how much time I spend outside the walls. "You don't know shit about us."

"So tell me."

"Go to hell," Clary snaps, following right beside me as we walk away from Lydia's cell.

"Hey! I told you what happened to me. Tell me what happened to you!"

We leave Lydia still calling after us as we reenter Hilltop, ignoring her and ignoring Henry sitting by the cellar door, waiting for us.

"You could've just asked me to help," Henry tells us. He gets up, running after us when we keep walking. "Hey! Daryl! Where are you going?"

"Girl's too messed up," I respond as Clary and I climb the stairs of Barrington. "She's a waste of time. She's Tara's problem now."

"What's gonna happen to her?"

"C'mon, Henry, put two and two together," Clary tells him, pausing on one of the steps below me. "Jesus is dead, her people killed Jesus. What do you think's gonna happen?"

"Did someone used to beat you up, too? You and Daryl both?" Finally, I turn to face him. "Once, I heard my dad ask my mom why she kept her hair so short. She said when it was long, her first husband would grab it when she tried to get away. He would pull it and slam her against the wall. So, one day… she just cut it all off so he couldn't. And I guess it took her this long to feel safe again.

Henry steps around Clary, climbing the stairs to face me head on. "Sometimes, you act like the type of guy that slams people against walls, but I don't think that's it."

Clary opens her mouth to protest, and I already know what's going to come out of it. _How fucking dare you even think for one second that he beats the shit out of people after everything we've gone through?_ I hold up a hand, gesturing for her to be quiet for a moment as I look down at Henry.

"You shouldn't listen to people when they talk," I warn.

"Look, I know Lydia's people are bad, but that doesn't mean she's bad at all," Henry protests. "She's just scared. You can show her that there's nothing to be afraid of. You can do that. You both can."

"No," I say with a shake of my head.

Henry sighs, turning to Clary. "You know I'm right," he tries. "During the war, I remember you talking about promising people safety. I remember you defending people everyone else wanted dead. What I'm doing, you did it, too! You defended Alden the same way!"

"Don't you _dare_ compare Alden to Lydia," Clary hisses. "It is _not_ the same thing! It's not even close."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Tara," I say as I spot Magna and Yumiko at the edge of the woods. "They're back. Ten o'clock."

Tara grabs the binoculars, looking in the direction I said they were. After looking for a moment, she says, "Connie and Kelly aren't there."

"What?"

"Take a look."

I take the binoculars Tara offers, finding that she's right. "Maybe they got hung up out there?"

"I hope that's all it is."

I nod in agreement, passing Tara's binoculars back to her as I go back to watching the road for signs of Alden and Luke. The guards allow Yumiko and Magna back in, and I glance towards Tara as Yumiko joins us on the watch platform. "So… what'd you find?" Tara questions.

"Nothing," Yumiko reports. "Look, it was wrong of us to leave. I just wished we'd realized that sooner. I should've—"

Yumiko cuts herself off as one of the guards calls for the others to open the gate, and Yumiko takes the binoculars, using them to look down the road. I can see Kelly walking between two of the guys that are on patrol, Connie lagging behind.

"My guard saw you sneak out last night," Tara tells her. "Wasn't taking any chances."

"Yumiko, we don't blame you," I add.

"We get why you did it. But the next time you want to challenge one of my decisions, just do me a favor and come talk to me about it, okay? I don't know if I'm doing the right thing here. But I do know I don't want any more people to die, and that includes you guys, too."

"So you really didn't find anything?" I question, turning towards Yumiko.

She shakes her head. "It was too dark, too dangerous. Only tracks we found were the ones from earlier."

"Did you run into any skins?"

"No, none, luckily."

"I think you might've spoken too soon on that," Tara says, lowering the binoculars before pointing. "Look."

At the far end of the cornfields, a group of walkers approaches. At first glance, they seem to be walkers complete with the rotting flesh. They don't have the stumbling gait, though. It's the skins.

Kelly turns back for Connie, but the two men that escort her grab her, dragging her inside the gates as everyone else scrambles for safety. Connie takes off into the cornfields, and she disappears from sight.

Tara turns, giving the signal for everyone to go on high alert. She shouts, "Daryl!"

Daryl runs to join us on the watch platform, Magna right behind him. The group of skins spread out as they approach, allowing an unmasked bald woman to take the lead.

"'By the pricking of my thumbs," I murmur, my heart beating faster with every step closer to our fence the bald woman takes, "something wicked this way comes.'"

"I am Alpha," she calls when she stops. "And we only want one thing from you. My daughter."


	16. Brave Horatius

**XV: Brave Horatius**

_**~Clary~**_

Kelly scrambles onto the watchpost that five of us occupy, standing in a row as we stare down at Alpha at our gate. Tara warns her, "Our community is more than capable of defending itself!"

"I show you my face because we mean you no harm," Alpha returns.

"You can go shovel that horseshit to whoever killed my best friend!" I snap. At least, I mean to, but Tara places a hand over my mouth before I can speak.

"I just want my daughter. I know you have her."

"You should turn around," Daryl advises as Tara lowers her hand from my mouth.

"Yeah," I agree. "You leave now, no one gets hurt."

"Wrong answer," Alpha replies.

She raises her hand in the air, and another group of skins just as large as the first emerges from around the cornfield. Kelly peers through the binoculars, searching for her sister.

"I just made it worse," I whisper, knowing that even more of the enemy standing outside our home drastically increases the chances of someone getting hurt. Knowing my luck, it'll be someone I love, and I start to shake at the thought. In my fear, I grab for the first hand I can, which happens to be Yumiko's.

Yumiko simply squeezes it back, a silent gesture that tells me, _I'm here. We're in this together. We're one of your people, and you're one of us._

I give her a nod of thanks, intertwining our fingers before taking Tara's and doing the same, linking us all together as we stand against Alpha, against the devil before us. I glance towards Kelly as she lowers the binoculars. I question, "Connie?"

"They don't see her," she answers as Yumiko gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "At least, not yet."

"That girl told me what her mom does to her," Daryl says. "We ain't sending her back to that."

"Yeah, but what if she has Alden and Luke?" Tara counters, grasping Daryl's hand at the idea of our friends in danger. "Pissing her off can get them killed."

Magna swallow nervously. If I were any farther away, I'd miss the minute bits of fear in Magna. Daryl, noticing the trend, takes Magna's hand, fully linking those of us facing Alpha. Magna looks at him in a mixture of surprise and confusion before noticing the rest of us, and our solidarity reassures her that we're in it together now.

Magna calls, "Did you kill our friends? We found their horses."

"No," Alpha answers. "Which one of you leads these people?"

"The hell's it matter?" Daryl demands.

Alpha shrugs. "Then I'll just address all of you. Your people crossed into our lands. There will be no conflict. Your people killed our people. There will be no conflict. I'm done talking. Bring me my daughter or there will be conflict."

"No one touches the girl," Daryl decides, then glances to Magna. "Keep Clary away from her."

Daryl climbs down from the watchpost, and I drop Yumiko and Tara's hands before following him. He's heading for the gate, and Aaron steps in front of me before I can follow Daryl any further. I plead, "Dad, I have to."

"I don't want to lose you," he replies, taking my hand. Though he hasn't apologized for trying to stop me from going outside the walls after Alden, he understands why I had to go. He knows what might be waiting out there on the other side of the gate, who might have been captured by the new enemy.

Together, we watch as the main gate is opened for my brother as he approaches. Aaron recites, "'Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate: 'To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better than facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?''"

"Dad, I have to," I repeat, and he seems to understand that I need to be there with Daryl, having his back like I always do.

"I don't want to lose you," he repeats, but he relents, dropping my hand.

"You won't. But just in case—I love you," I tell him, quickly kissing his cheek before running to catch up with Daryl. I join him halfway down the path, falling into step beside him. He glances at me, whispering, "I didn't think you'd come."

"Of course I'm here, I'm your sister," I reply. "It's my job to stick with you. 'I will stand at thy right hand and keep the bridge with thee.'"

We stop at the border gate, Alpha standing at the other side. I find myself reminded of another standoff, years ago. I was outside the gates at that confrontation, having returned to the prison just in time to see the Governor standing outside its fences with a full militia and two of ours held captive.

I'm not about to lose my home and my friends like I did that day. I'll fight until I'm dead for these people, for this place. Hilltop has been my home for ten years, its people my family. I'm willing to do whatever to keep them safe, and if Alpha has Alden and Luke, I'm more than willing to give her daughter back to her to keep him safe.

_To keep them safe,_ I have to correct myself. _This is about more than just Alden. Remember that, Clary._

Alpha steps closer, looking Daryl and I over. Daryl declares, "You can't have her. Now, if it's a fight you're looking for, we got enough firepower to light you up. Right here and now."

"Twice over, at least," I add. "Just in case you survive the first one."

I ignore the cries, knowing that it's just part of Alpha's sick and twisted game, when I hear the baby. My gaze never leaves Alpha, but I can see Daryl's momentary lapse in attention out of the corner of my eye. He demands, "You brought a _baby_ out here?"

"We're animals," Alpha replies. "Animals live out here. Animals have babies. So we have babies out here. Now, what were you saying? Lighting us all up? You seem to want conflict. I don't. So I'm proposing a trade."

Alpha steps aside, allowing us to see two skins among the others with knives at their necks. The skins holding the knives on them remove their masks. A whole new wave of fear replaces the momentary relief I feel upon seeing him.

_She really does have our people._

I rest my hand against the gate as I step forward, meeting his eyes and seeing the fear in them as I whisper, "Alden."

"I wanted to kill them," Alpha says.

"You bitch," I hiss, my head snapping towards her.

"But," she continues, "I want my daughter more. One of mine, two of yours. It's a good trade, which is why you're gonna take it. Now, bring me my daughter."

"Done," I decide. "Daryl, get the girl." I look at him over my shoulder when he doesn't move, pleading with my eyes. "Go get the woman her goddamn daughter. She's right. It's more than a fair trade for our people."

Daryl leans down, whispering in my ear, "Are you sure about this?"

"Our people matter more to me. We make the trade."

Daryl dips his head in a nod, and I remain at the gate to keep a close eye on Alden and Luke while he goes inside to get Lydia. A group of walkers—real ones, I can tell by their growls—wander towards the Hilltop from down the road. The skin with the baby tries to quiet it as its crying intensifies, but she's having no luck. The mother looks to Alpha for guidance, but she simply shrugs when a few of the walkers stumble towards the mother, drawn by the baby's cries.

The mother removes the sling, placing her child on the ground for the dead.

"Hey!" Alden exclaims through his gag.

"Alden, I swear to God, if you die, I'm gonna kill you," I warn, noticing the way the skin moves the knife a little closer to his neck.

"The baby," he continues, ignoring me.

"To live with the dead means to live in silence," Alpha explains in a whisper. "If the mother can't quiet the child, then the dead will. Natural selection."

Behind me, I can hear the others banging on the paneled walls of Hilltop, yelling to distract the dead from the crying baby. It's not working.

"Hey!" Alden tries again. "Come on!"

"Alden, shut your ass up," I try, more frantic this time as the skin holding him hostage presses the edge of the knife against his throat while the one on Luke doesn't even have the knife near his throat.

Connie darts out from the cornfield, using her slingshot to kill a walker that was nearing the child. She kicks another back before scooping up the baby. She pauses for a moment to search for an exit, a way back into the safety of Hilltop that doesn't involve trying to go through the skins.

Alpha nods to two skins in the back. They draw their knives as they step toward Connie, who sees them and retreats back into the cornfield, the baby in her arms. Alpha gestures for them to follow.

"No, please don't!" I exclaim. "Please don't send your people after her! Please don't! She's just saving a child!"

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

"Please don't! She's just saving a child!"

It's Clary's voice, frantic as she pleads. Her cries, combined with the yelling of those on watch, concerns me more than the currently missing Lydia.

"What's going on?!" I demand as I near the gate, Kelly scrambling down from the wall to meet me.

"They left the baby for the sickos!" she replies. "Connie went after it, and now there's sickos after her! Alpha started to send her people after her!"

"This way!" Tammy Rose says, and she and Earl lead Kelly and I out another exit, one closer to the cornfield.

We charge into the cornfield, and I almost call out for Connie before remembering that she's deaf. While that worries me, I know that she's got what it takes to survive for her to still be alive after all this time. I spy her through the stalks, and she takes down a walker that grabs for her from behind.

Another approaches from the front, but I run to meet it, killing it. I extend my hand towards her, telling her, "Come on!"

Connie glances over her shoulder before she moves, and I push her ahead of me as we run for the safety of Hilltop's walls. I can only hope that Enid and Addy are back with Lydia when we return, knowing that Alpha's patience is growing thinner with each passing moment.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

It's taking Daryl too long. He should've been out by now, even with the hiccup with the cornfield. I can feel all of us starting to get antsy.

"I'm gonna go see what's taking so long," I decide after glancing at the gate, which still hasn't opened.

"Hurry," Alpha advises in a whisper. "If I don't get my daughter, you don't get your friends."

"You'll get her," I swear, turning back around to look at Alpha for a moment before turning my attention to Alden. "Don't do anything stupid, heroic, or stupidly heroic, Point Break."

I walk back up the path, the gate opening for me. I can see Daryl up ahead, pacing back and forth in front of Barrington. I call, "The hell's going on?! Alpha's gonna fucking kill them if we don't give her the girl!"

"Henry took off with Lydia," Daryl tells me.

"He did _what?!"_

"Enid and Addy are on it. It'll be okay."

"Alpha's tired of waiting. We need to do this!" I turn towards the men at the gate. "Kal, go tell her we'll be there in a minute! Keep an eye on Alden and Luke and _do not_ let her lay a hand on them!"

"On it," Kal affirms, and he takes off out of the gate, relaying my message to Alpha.

"Lydia's still not here!" Daryl hisses.

"I am," Lydia says, and my brother and I both turn at her voice. She stands a few feet from us, Enid and Addy on either side, Henry trailing behind. "I'm here. It's okay. Do it."

"C'mon," I urge. Daryl and I each take one of her arms, escorting her to the gate. I squeeze Marco's shoulder once he opens the gate for us, standing back to allow us to exit. Kal, when he sees us at the gate with Lydia between us, opens the border gate.

"Whatever it takes," Marco says to me.

I repeat, "Whatever it takes."

Kal steps aside to allow Alpha to start up the path with the two skins escorting Alden and Luke. Daryl and I pause a few yards in front of her, releasing our hold on Lydia. Alpha glances her over before giving the nod. We make the trade all at once, Lydia walking down to her mother while Alden and Luke return to us. I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding when Alden walks past me, relieved they're back and safe.

I'm too relieved to even be jealous when he goes to Enid first, embracing her as she tells him, "I never want to let go of you."

Luke pauses beside me, gesturing for me to cut the rope on his wrists. I happily comply, and he pulls his gag off before leaning towards me to tell me, "When you get back inside, pull Alden aside and tell him how you feel."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply.

"Look, I saw too much of Miko and Magna staring at each other to _not_ know long-term pining when I see it."

I scoff. "Get inside, Luke."

I step forward to take Daryl's arm, starting to pull him towards the gate, but I pause in curiosity when I see Lydia reach her mother.

"Sorry, Mom," she says. "Thanks for coming to get me."

Without warning or hesitation, Alpha slaps her daughter, telling her, "You call me Alpha, like all the rest."

"Yes, Alpha."

With that, the skins turn and leave, Lydia walking in the middle to avoid being detected by walkers. As Daryl and I walk back into Hilltop, he murmurs, "We shouldn't've done it."

"Too late, Daryl. It's done." I walk away from my brother, over to where Alden and Enid are still hugging. I don't know why, but I'm actually considering Luke's advice. At least to have Alden to myself while I make sure he's okay. "Hey, um, sorry to break it up, but can I steal Alden for a minute?"

Enid nods and the two pull apart. I gesture for Alden to follow with a jerk of my head, leading Alden towards the back of Barrington so we can have a bit of privacy. As we pass Luke, I make the mistake of looking at him. He's grinning away, giving me a thumbs up. He says, "Go get 'em, tiger."

"_Don't_ call me tiger," I warn, while Alden immediately denies, "I have no idea what he's talking about."

I stop us once we're at the back of Barrington, turning to face Alden. "Did they hurt you?"

Alden shakes his head, but I have to see for myself. I take each of his arms, examining them as he starts, "Clary—"

"Alden, just shut up and let me look at you," I rush, my hands shaking as I brush aside his hair, searching for any signs that the skins hurt him.

"I'm okay, Clary," Alden assures me, grasping my hands and forcing my attention to his words. "They didn't hurt me. I'm okay. Are you?"

"We were out there, and I held Paul as he… as he died in _my arms_. And then I heard _them._ We lost him, and the rest of us nearly died, and I… I froze. Because of you, Alden. I thought of you. I thought I was a goner, and I didn't think of anyone else, _just _you. I thought of what it would do to you, losing me, hurting."

"Clary," Alden says softly.

"I didn't know why it was you," I continue. "I didn't. Not until I thought about it a lot on the way back here. It's because… it's because I think… I think I'm falling for you, Alden. But you're with Enid, so this confession doesn't even matt—"

Alden cuts me off with a kiss.

He runs a hand through my hair, stopping at my nape. I pull myself closer to him, hands on his waist, and I can feel his heart racing through his chest. Alden lets his hand drop from my hair, dragging his fingers down my back and sending shivers along my spine. I take a few steps forward, Alden taking a few steps backwards to compensate. He stops when his back presses against the side of Barrington, and I run my hands up his chest, wrapping around his neck.

When we break apart, his taste lingers on my lips. I pant, chest rising and falling with Alden's as he looks down at me. I let my arms fall from his neck, resting my hands on his chest instead.

"I've been wanting to do that," Alden says, "ever since you saved my life."

"Alden, I—"

"Clary?" Enid calls. "Where are you?"

Alden and I jerk apart as his girlfriend rounds the corner of Barrington. We stand apart from each other, both of us pretending like nothing happened between us. Enid tells me, "Daryl's looking for you, Clary. He said it's important."

I nod, starting off towards Barrington, where I assume Daryl is. Alden and Enid start to follow, but Alden says, "Enid, can we talk?"

Enid remains with her boyfriend, who just admitted that he had feelings for me over her. I spare one last glance at them before heading to find my brother.

* * *

_**~Enid~**_

I turn to Alden as Clary disappears around the corner of Barrington, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. That's been our thing, asking if we can talk and then kissing. Alden steps back, though, telling me, "No, we actually need to talk."

"Oh," I say. "Yeah, okay, of course. What's up?"

"Enid, I truly hope you know you'll always have a piece of my heart—"

"Oh, that's why you wanna talk," I interrupt.

Alden glances down. "I'm sorry, E. I… I kissed her."

"I know. And I know that I don't have your heart. I'm not stupid, Alden. I've always known that you loved her."

"Enid, I'm really sorry that it's ending this way."

"It's okay. Really, it is. She deserves you. She deserves something happy."

"That doesn't mean you don't."

"No, it doesn't. But Alden, you and I aren't meant to be. If you want to end it, just come out and say it."

"So this is it," Alden says.

"Yup."

"It's over between us."

"It was good while it lasted?" I offer.

Alden smiles softly. "Yeah, it was. And hey, this doesn't mean that we can't be friends. I still do care about you."

I give him a small smile, nodding my agreement. I hold out my hand for a handshake, while Alden goes for a hug. "Oh, um," I start, while Alden says, "Sorry."

We switch; I go for the hug while Alden goes for a handshake. We both let out an awkward laugh, and I shake Alden's hand. Alden drops my hand after a moment, ducking around me and rounding Barrington, presumably going after Clary.

I don't blame either of them—I knew going into this that sooner or later, it would end because Alden doesn't love me the way he loves Clary. I know I don't have their shared history, what they've done for each other. I know that Alden's loved her for years, and I wasn't with him for long.

I know all of this, but it still hurts.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Clars, you know better than anyone here why we couldn't send that girl back," Daryl says, his arms crossed over his chest. "You saw what her momma did to her the _second_ she was back with 'em."

"It doesn't matter," I hiss. "Alpha said it herself—they're _animals._ It's what they do. It's how they live."

"It's not right," Daryl returns. "Will's been dead for twelve years, but I still remember. I couldn't send Lydia back to that."

"But we did because it was what we had to do. Lydia is _not_ one of us. You risked two of ours for _her_, for the enemy."

"You did the same damn thing, all those years ago. Alden wasn't one of us."

I never thought I'd do it, but I smack Daryl across the face. He jerks back, one hand on his cheek in shock. I growl, "Don't you _ever _fucking say that Alden isn't one of us. Especially when he was here and you _weren't_. You always said you'd never leave me and then you did. _Liar._"

"I'm sorry," Daryl whispers, finally realizing exactly how much he fucking hurt me when he told me to leave him alone out there.

"And Alden?" I continue, on a roll now. "He wanted out of that life, wanted to become one of us. Lydia will _never_ be one of us. She walks among the dead and lives like an animal. And me, what I did? I trusted Alden because he proved to me that he could be trusted! I _never_ put _any _of you in danger, only _myself_; and he saved me." I take a step back, starting to leave. "I did what needed to be done, even if it meant sending her back to that."

"Remember who we are," Daryl says, catching my arm before I can leave. "We're Dixons, even if you took their last name. Don't forget what we've been through together. Don't turn your back on us. Don't turn your back on _me_."

"After _you_ turned your back on me _first?!"_

"Cheyenne, I am so sorry about that," Daryl pleads. "I never wanted to see you get hurt out there going after me. I didn't want to lose you. But I'm here now. I'm back, and I'm trying to be your brother again. Don't make me beg you to remember who we are."

"I know who we are, Daryl," I return. "I know our past, our history. But I also know my past with Alden, and I am not about to give that up for _anything_."

I start to pull my arm free of my brother's grasp, but he doesn't release me. "You're slipping, Clary," Daryl says. "We've all seen it. We understand why."

It's not my brother's voice I hear in those words. He remembers that as clearly as I do, when it was Rick losing his mind with grief.

"Hershel said that," I recall. "Back when we were at war with the Governor, all those years ago. It was Rick that slipped then. He got better because he had a chance to. I don't have that luxury, Daryl. Not with the devil just outside our gates. Killing walkers was always dangerous, but now it's not walkers we're fighting. We don't know how many there are or what they want, and we have no way of knowing if it's just another dead bastard or the ones that wear the skins until they kill us. I am _terrified, _Daryl. They already took away one of the people I can't live without, and there's _nothing_ stopping them from taking you or Dad or Gracie or Alden. They've already threatened Alden, and I couldn't live with myself if something happened to him. Daryl, we got lucky today. Next time, we won't be. They'll kill someone else, and it's only a matter of time before they take me, too."

"C'mere," Daryl says softly, pulling me into his arms. It's been years since Daryl held me like this, tucking me into his chest and resting his chin on my head. "Clary, sweetheart, you know I love you. You know I'd do anything to protect you, especially from them. Listen, they're gone, alright? We don't gotta worry about them no more."

"Daryl, will you stay this time?" I question, looking up at him. "Please don't leave again."

"I won't," Daryl promises.

"Thank you." I stand on my tiptoes, kissing his cheek, still red from where I slapped him. "Thank you."

Daryl lets out a small chuckle, saying, "It seems we have an audience."

I look over my shoulder, pulling myself out of my brother's embrace when I find Alden watching us. I ask, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Alden replies. "Will you walk with me?"

I nod, giving Daryl's hand a squeeze before joining Alden. My steps falter as I realize he's leading me in the direction of the graveyard—after that night, I can hardly bring myself to look at the cemetery, even if it's where two of the most important people to me now lie. I feel the same wave of fear wash over me that I felt when I learned Alden went out there looking for us, realizing, _It could've been three._

I rush forward, wrapping my arms around Alden with a sob. He topples forward, not having expected it; and I follow him to the ground. "Whoa, hey," Alden says softly, sitting up and holding me against his chest. "Oh, Clary, you know I hate seeing you cry."

"I'm not ready," I whimper into his shoulder. "I already lost so much! And I was _so scared_ I lost you, too. I almost did and I'm not ready for that!"

"I'm still here," Alden whispers, tilting his head down to whisper in my ear. "I'm still here, Clary." Alden clutches me against him, and I can feel him shaking just as much as me, still terrified over the ordeal he went through. There's a catch in his voice as he adds, "We're together. We're still alive."

Over Alden's shoulder, I can see the graveyard. My eyes flick over Jesus's grave, the latest victim of the newest threat, and land on Abraham's, echoing, "'For however long that'll be.'"

* * *

"Clary, I don't think we should go to the Fair," Aaron says during our dinner. It's been mostly silent up until now, the only sound being forks scraping their plates.

"The Kingdom needs us," I reply, looking up at him. Gracie remains silent, looking back and forth between the two of us. "They don't know about Alpha, either. They're in danger."

"We'd be in danger if we go out."

"Dad, it's _Carol_. It's Ezekiel and Jerry. It's our _family."_

"I'm not willing to risk mine just to trade tools and blankets."

I glance towards Gracie, not wanting her to hear this conversation. Aaron seems to get the same idea after glancing at the blonde, looking back to me as he says, "Gracie, sweetheart, go to your room."

Gracie starts, "Daddy—"

"Room, Gracie," Aaron repeats. "Please."

Gracie sighs, getting up from the table. She walks back the hall, and Aaron and I are silent until we hear her door close. Aaron repeats, "We'd be in danger if we go out. Michonne was right all those years ago, closing off Alexandria. I don't want to risk you and Gracie. We should stay inside the walls, away from danger."

"If you want to run away and hide, then maybe you should take Gracie and go to Alexandria," I say. I know the real reason why Michonne closed Alexandria's gates six, nearly seven, years ago. It's a memory we don't share with others, a scar the three of us bear.

"Clary—"

"Hide away there, Dad, but I can't," I shoot back, getting pissed now. Maybe if I piss him off enough, he'll take Gracie and go to Alexandria, where they'll be safe away from everything else. I'd rather stay and put myself in danger so they'll be safe, even if it means I won't be able to see them because they're in Alexandria, closed off from the rest of the world.

"Cheyenne, I'm your father," Aaron says. "I can't just leave you."

"You already have. I'm not even your daughter. The only reason you looked after me was 'cause Daryl made you promise! Eric was the one that made it a home! And then he was gone and you _abandoned_ me, just passing me off just like you did with Grace! We were _together_ when we lost Dad, and you _left me_ to lose Carl on my own. You left me to deal with all of that, all by myself!"

Aaron stares at me, speechless.

"You ditched me the first chance you got. I get it. I was the one that led us into the war, the one responsible for Eric's death. Maybe I deserved it. But I didn't deserve you pretending to care about me when it was only you fulfilling a promise you made to my brother."

"Cheyenne," Aaron whispers, his voice breaking as tears come to his eyes. "How can you even think something like that? I always cared about you, and that's why Daryl asked me to look after you. I would've taken care of you even if Daryl hadn't asked me. I am so sorry that I left after we lost Eric, and there is no excuse for that. But don't think for one _second_ that I abandoned you. We may not be related through blood, but you are my daughter, and I love you with all of my heart. With a heart that's still beating."

I get to my feet, looking down at him across the table. "Leave. Go live behind Alexandria's walls. I have to make this right. What they did to Jesus can't go unpunished. And if I make it out alive, I'll let you know, but I can't live with knowing that they're still out there. You might be able to, but that's because you don't want to face them. So go to Alexandria, where you won't have to."

I turn and walk out of our cabin, climbing up on watch with Tara. She glances over at me, questioning, "Everything alright?" I wrap my jacket tighter around myself, choking back tears. "Clary?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," I whisper.

It's within half an hour that Aaron and Gracie emerge from our home, both carrying a bag as they head for the stables. Tara questions, "Where are they going?"

"Alexandria," I answer. "Dad doesn't want to be out there anymore, so they're going to Alexandria, where they can stay inside the walls and not have to worry about communicating with the outside world."

"Are you going with them?"

I shake my head. "No matter how much it hurts, it's better this way. They'll be safe. If they ride fast enough, they'll be able to make it right around nightfall."

I climb down from the watchpost to meet them as Kal opens the gate, hugging Gracie one last time. "I love you, kiddo," I tell her. "Remember that."

"I love you, too, Sissy," Gracie replies. I help her up onto her horse, her bag strapped to its back. Aaron and I look at each other for a long moment before I tell him, "Ride safe, alright?"

Aaron crosses the space between us, wrapping me in a tight hug, pressing his nose into my hair. He kisses my temple as he always does, telling me, "I love you, Cheyenne. Even if you want to push us away."

I pull away from Aaron, turning away so he can't see the tears in my eyes. He rests his hand on my back, telling me, "Either your heart's still beating or it isn't. Make sure that it is."

"I love you," I whisper, unsure if he can even hear me, then clear my throat. "You better get going. It's a lot of ground to cover before nightfall."

I have to walk away, unable to watch them as they leave the Hilltop. The gate closes behind me as I walk away, towards where Alden chats with Marco near the steps of Barrington. Marco gives me a smile as he usually does when he sees me approaching, Alden turning to look. "You alright, short stack?" Alden questions.

I shake my head, not trusting myself quite enough to speak. Alden extends an arm, and I tuck myself into his side, wrapping my arms around him. "Hey, Marc, I think we'll see you later," Alden tells him. "C'mon, Clary."

He leads me into Barrington, up the stairs to his room. "Your dad and Gracie left," Alden notes. "That's what it is?"

"I told them to leave," I explain, sitting on the edge of his bed as he sits in the chair by the window. I extend my hand towards him, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Please, Alden." Alden moves to sit beside me on his bed, wrapping his arms around me. I rest my head against his shoulder, continuing, "Dad didn't want to risk us anymore, so I told them to go to Alexandria, 'cause Michonne won't send anyone out. But I have to avenge Jesus, drive a knife into each of their hearts for what they did to him."

"Stay right there," Alden says after a moment. "Don't move." He gets up, crossing his room in just a few strides and stopping at the dresser. His back is to me, and he pauses for a moment before looking at me over his shoulder. "Close your eyes. I'll tell you when to open them."

I do as he says, closing my eyes. I sense Alden in front of me, taking my hands. He turns them, palms up and open. He places a bundle wrapped in cloth in my hands, unwrapping the cloth. "Okay," Alden says softly. "Open your eyes."

I open my eyes to find Alden kneeling in front of me, and he glances down towards the bundle in my hands. I follow his gaze, eyes widening in surprise when I see the dagger. I let the cloth fall into my lap as I pick up the dagger, turning it over in my hands.

The handle is made from an antler; I guess that explains why Alden wanted them from the deer I brought back the other week. There's a small "A" near the handle, too.

"Alden," I breathe, "this is… this is _beautiful_."

"It's yours," Alden says. "I made it for you."

"You made this?" I question, looking up at him. Alden nods, his cheeks pink. "I… I don't know what to say. I'm speechless, Al."

"Well, a thank you would be acceptable." I put the blade down on his end table, wrapping my arms around his neck as I lean forward to kiss him. "I was joking, but you won't catch me saying no to a kiss."

"Thank you, Alden." Alden gives me a smile and sits back on the bed, pulling me with him. I lay against his chest, reaching over and running my fingers over the antler handle. "I love it, Alden. It's so beautiful. You did an amazing job."

"I was gonna give this to you when you got back with Eugene, but…" Alden sighs softly, knowing how drastically that plan changed.

"Can you do me a favor?" I question, tilting my head to look up at him. "Don't let me go."

"I won't ever let you go. But you need to do something for me, too. Use the dagger when you go out there, alright? Keep yourself safe. I know no one can stop you from your revenge, but make sure you come home. Come home to me."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

I can't get it out of my head, the sight of Alpha slapping Lydia the second her daughter was returned to her. I keep thinking about the marks from the switch on her arms.

I put my head in my hands, no longer looking out into the night over the Hilltop's walls.

"Daryl?" a girl questions from the edge of the platform.

I lift my head to look at her. "Hey. Addy, right?" She nods. "What're you doing here?"

"I found this in Henry's room," she tells me, extending a page torn out of a book towards me. She leaves as I unfold it, reading it.

_Couldn't live with it. Left to find Lydia._

Well, shit. I grab my crossbow, taking off for Barrington to find Tara, who meets me on the porch. I give her the rundown the situation, promising that I'll be back in time for the Fair and that we'll meet them at the Kingdom.

I turn to leave, adjusting the crossbow on my shoulder as I walk down the path. I hear the footsteps in the dirt, someone running to meet me. I slow when I see that it's Connie, and she gestures for me to wait as she writes a message in her notebook for me to read.

_Where are you going?_

In response, I hold up Henry's note for her to read.

She nods before scribbling another message. _I'm going with you._

"No," I tell her with a shake of my head. I start down the path again, but Connie catches my arm, forcing me to stop. She points to her message again, determined. "Why?"

I peer down at her notebook as she writes her answer, but she moves before I get a chance to decipher any of the upside down words, holding it up for me to read. _I can't live with it either._

I don't explicitly give her the okay to accompany me, but I know that I can't stop her. So she joins me as I reach the gate, Dog running to catch up as we leave in the dead of night, leaving Hilltop behind.


	17. Love Always, Your Tiger

**XVI: Love Always, Your Tiger**

_**~Aaron~**_

The sun is close to completely dipping below the horizon behind us when Gracie and I reach Alexandria's gate. Scott's on watch, leaning forward when we ride up. "Aaron, is that you?" he questions. "What are you and Gracie doing here?"

"Moving," I answer. "Where's Michonne?"

The gate slides open, and I see Michonne on the other side. "I was checking up on everyone on watch for the night," she says. "What's going on?"

"I didn't want to risk coming out here any longer," I explain. "Clary thought that if I wanted to stay away from danger, then I should take Gracie and go to Alexandria to stay. So here we are."

"Is Clary coming?" Michonne asks.

"No. She wants to stay and risk herself trying to avenge someone that advocated against violence. But… if she does come, you'll let her in, right?"

"Aaron, she made her opinion on both Alexandria and myself _very_ clear."

"At least let her see us." She hesitates. "Michonne, Clary's my _daughter._"

"Fine. The occasional visit, no council input from Clary, and you follow _my_ rules."

Michonne steps aside, allowing Gracie and I to enter before she closes the gate. I dismount my horse, facing Michonne. "I told you before I'm sorry for not listening to you," I say. "I truly am. Michonne, you were right. You were right this whole time, and I should've listened. I didn't then, but I am now."

* * *

_**~Michonne~**_

My Council has been keeping secrets from me. Not just the Council, but the people close to them, too. It was Aaron that confessed first, further proving his loyalty and re-earning him his council spot within two days of being at Alexandria. He didn't rat the others out, though—they made it clear that they all agreed to come clean about the radio.

I take a step back from the table that it rests on in Gabriel's garage, asking, "Who else knew about this?"

"Just Eugene and Rosita," Gabriel repeats, answering it the same way he's been answering it.

"Oh, and Clary," Siddiq adds.

"I thought that went without saying," Laura replies.

"Point is, just the people on the Council, plus Eugene and Rosita," Gabriel says. "We would've told you if we found someone out there, but we didn't."

"Then who knows who else was listening?" I return.

"We weren't being careless with it," Gabriel snaps.

I turn to face him, stepping closer as he dares to challenge _me_, the head of security for Alexandria. "Eugene and Rosita went out to set up this relay and almost died because of it. Jesus _did_ die because of it. _Negan_ got out while you were distracted because of it! I can't do my job if the Council is keeping things from me!"

"We gave you the power to veto the Council based on security concerns, but now _everything_ is a security concern. So our votes don't matter anymore, unless you agree with them. What is the point of even having a Council if you don't listen to us?"

"You're starting to sound a lot like Clary, Gabriel," I warn. "Putting ourselves out there when we don't have to is dangerous!"

"So is cutting us off from the rest of the world. Who are we supposed to turn to when we need help? We can't be so worried about finding enemies that we lose our friends."

"We did lose a friend," Aaron chimes in. Everyone bows their heads, not meeting Aaron's gaze, all of us knowing how close Jesus was with each of the Raleighs. "Look, we all set out with the best intentions, but that doesn't change what happened. There's a new enemy out there, and they're _exactly_ what Michonne was afraid we'd find. I don't regret the time I spent out there with Jesus, running back and forth between communities with Clary. I don't.

"What happened, maybe that would've happened anyway," Aaron continues. "But now we know what's out there, and we can't pretend otherwise. We put Michonne in charge of security for a reason. Her judgement has saved us time and time again."

"Yes, but at what cost?" Siddiq inquires. Siddiq, the man that my son died saving, turning on me, challenging me. "We saw Carol when we were at the Hilltop. And she told me that she tried asking Michonne for help with the Fair again, and she said that you turned her down."

"You spoke on behalf of Alexandria?!" Gabriel demands.

"The question of the Fair is old business," I reply.

"Yes, but we have _new_ information," Siddiq retorts. "Look, the Fair starts the day after tomorrow, and it's not too late to reconsider. Carol says that situation at the Kingdom is far worse than Ezekiel let on in his letter. Aaron, have you been there recently? Can you elaborate?"

"Clary and Jesus were there some time last year, but I didn't go with them," Aaron replies with a shrug. "I wouldn't know. It's mostly been letters, maybe meeting halfway here and there. What did Carol tell you?"

"Kingdom's too isolated. They need the trade that this Fair will bring."

"The Kingdom can take care of itself," Laura opposes. "They always have."

"Carol wouldn't ask for help a second time if it wasn't serious."

"I motion the Council take a second vote on the Kingdom's Fair," Nora proposes.

"To what end?" Gabriel sighs. "She'd just veto it."

"I would," I agree. "The roads leading there from here are broken and dangerous, _and_ there is a group dressed as the dead who are trying to kill us." I sigh, turning to Siddiq. "Look, I wish we could help them, too. And we could vote to open up our doors to our friends just like we did with the people of Sanctuary. I could get behind that. But Carol made it clear in her letter that Ezekiel is not ready to give up the Kingdom, and I'm not ready to risk Alexandrian lives over this."

"I know that you just want what's best for us," Siddiq says. "But what does it mean for Alexandria to survive if it means that the Kingdom falls?"

"It means _Alexandria_ survives."

* * *

"Judith, stay with your brother," I order, leaving her to watch over RJ as she and Gracie play with him. I take off down the street to meet Aaron, not too happy as he walks towards my house. He pauses when he sees me heading to meet him, turning and walking as we walk back towards the gate. "What is it?"

"Daryl's at the gate," he answers.

"And you didn't let him in?"

"He's not alone."

"Christ," I sigh. Aaron gestures for me to lead the way up the ladder when we reach the watch post, Laura greeting us at the top. I step to the corner, looking down at Daryl. Connie stands with him, Dog faithfully at his feet. Henry stands behind him, using his bo staff for support, with the skin we captured holding his hand.

"Henry's hurt," Daryl calls up to me. "You were closest. We wouldn't have come. We had no other choice."

"What about her?" I demand.

"Lydia's with us," Henry answers.

Daryl gives me a nod to confirm, and I turn around to face Aaron and Laura. Aaron hisses, "We can't trust her."

"But I trust Daryl," I return. I climb down from the watchpost, opening the gate for them myself.

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

"Is Hilltop in danger?" Judith asks, glancing over at me as we sit on the bridge that crosses Alexandria's lake, the water wheels turning around us.

"I don't know," I admit. "It might be."

"Is that why Aaron and Gracie came, but Clary didn't? Mom won't tell me, and neither will Aaron."

"I don't know. He hasn't told me why Clars ain't with him."

"Is it because she wants to keep Hilltop safe?"

"Might be. Probably. The skins do know where they are."

"And you helped Lydia anyway."

"No, I went to get Henry," I tell her with a shake of my head. "Lydia just kinda tagged along."

"You brought her here. That means you want to help. I want to help, too."

"I know you do."

Judith turns to me. "Would you stay if my mom says it's okay?"

I pause for a moment, just enough to fool Judith into thinking I'm considering it, but I know that Michonne wouldn't be thrilled with letting a stranger stay after she let Jocelyn in. Finally, I give Judith my answer. "Nah. I should keep moving. Your mom's right, keeping you and RJ safe. This place. That's what's important."

"No, it isn't," Judith aruges. "I mean, not just us. It's important for everyone to be safe. I've heard the stories, how everyone fought the Saviors and won. We can do that again."

I shake my head. "No. You haven't heard all the stories. Those stories, the ones that parents tell their kids, they don't tell you what it cost us. About how we lost so much that, by the end, we weren't sure if it was worth it. Too many kids were orphaned, too many people widowed. Too much death, and Negan came out alive."

"Uncle Daryl, was Negan _really_ as bad as the stories make him out to be?" Judith questions.

I sigh. "Kid, I'm probably the wrong person to ask that to."

"Then who's the right one?"

I shrug. "Dunno. Maybe Clary. Though she might not be the right one either."

"'Cause he saved her life?" Judith asks. "That winter, after my dad died. She'd be biased, right? Say that he's not as bad as the stories made him out to be?"

"How do you know about that?"

"He told me one time. While he was helping me with my homework."

I can't help but chuckle at the image of Negan—big, bad Negan—helping little Judith Grimes with a math problem. "Does your mom know that Negan helps with your homework?"

"She got mad at me for it," Judith admits. "She doesn't like me talking to Negan. I think she's scared."

"She has a right to be," I tell Judith. "That's why she wants to protect you, RJ, and Alexandria. And it's why we can't stay."

* * *

_**~Aaron~**_

I glance over to Daryl as Michonne and I lead Daryl and his group to the gate under the cover of the night. "Do you remember," I begin, "way back when I told you that you'd make a great father?"

"Yeah," Daryl says slowly, unsure of where I'm going with this.

"You got to skip the exploding diapers part."

"No, I didn't," Daryl argues. "I had Clary the first sixteen years. You've had her the last eleven. Trust me, when I was sixteen, I had my fair share of exploding diapers, 'specially after Mom died."

I look down when Daryl mentions my daughter. He doesn't know the full extent of why I came to Alexandria; he doesn't know about the fight.

I clear my throat, saying, "You shouldn't have had to be a dad at sixteen."

"Will sure as hell wasn't gonna be. I could've left, but… I wasn't gonna let Clary alone with him, not like Merle did to me. That's why I was a dad and a brother all at once. All while I was still a teenager."

"But I was right."

Daryl chuckles. "A lot's changed. Back then, we were still building bridges."

I squeeze Daryl in a quick hug as we reach the gate. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"Yeah, of course, Dad," he teases.

I hit his arm as he pulls back. "I mean it. Be safe."

"You, too," he replies.

Michonne rolls open the gate for them, wrapping Daryl in a hug. He waves goodbye to Judith, who watches from the edge of the playground. "She's mad at me," Michonne tells him.

"It's 'cause she don't know," Daryl replies. "Why don't you tell her?"

"She's not ready. Neither am I. And… it was Clary that did the deed. She's kept it a secret all these years."

"Kept what a secret?" I question.

"She never told you," Daryl guesses. "About what she did that day, who she killed." I shake my head, still not knowing what day he's talking about. "Tell Judith, Michonne, so she understands. And tell him. I'd stay and do it myself, but we need to get moving."

The gate is rolled shut behind Daryl and his group, and I turn to Michonne. "What is he talking about?" I demand.

"I'll put Judith to bed and meet you at your house," Michonne says, rather than answering my question. "I'd rather not have her hear it just yet."

* * *

_**~Michonne~**_

I left Aaron in his house, still processing the truth about why I closed off Alexandria. Clary lied to him, told him that it was a different group that branded her and Daryl. She told him that she had killed, but didn't tell him that every person she killed that day was a child—_every single_ child that Jocelyn had been taking care of.

She lied to everyone for years, all to hide one of her dirty secrets. And I've found out that she has more secrets, ones that she's kept hidden from me all while walking inside the walls of my home.

I'm careful to follow the creases exactly as I refold Clary's letter to Negan. No one can ever suspect that I've read it. No one can know that I know. Not Aaron, not Negan, not Daryl.

I fold my hands, resting my chin on my knuckles as I stare down at the letter that damns Clary Dixon. The Clary that wrote that letter, that did those deeds, is the Dixon that I once knew—the one that only cares about her immediate family, the one that'll turn on everyone else without a moment's notice. She's not Clary Raleigh, the one that cares about everyone she meets and does whatever to save them.

I don't think Clary Raleigh ever existed.

I don't know how she fooled me into thinking that she did for so long.

Clary Dixon will never be welcome within Alexandria again.

* * *

_**~Negan~**_

I look up from my book as Michonne enters the cellar, questioning, "Has Judith been down here today?"

I return, "You just curious, or…"

"Answer the damn question."

"I haven't seen her. Not since yesterday."

"What the hell does she talk to you about, anyway?"

"So now you're curious," I state, putting my book down.

"For someone who wants to be helpful, you're doing a pretty shit job of it."

"Nothing, really. Just chit-chat."

"Specifics."

"Homework, sometimes. Other times, how much she misses her Uncle Daryl. She likes hearing stories about her dad. For some reason, she likes hearing about my run with Clary—our adventure _before_ she got shot, I should say. She likes hearing about Carl."

"So you feed her bullshit."

"She'd smoke out the bullshit. You know that. I let her know that she's just as much of a badass as Carl was. Then she yells at me for cursing. I tell her about how he got into the Sanctuary and shot up a bunch of my men. How dear old dad ninja-sliced my jugular. They're all old stories, Michonne, but they are new to her."

"And you tell her these things why? Because you know that I haven't? Or because you're trying to earn some sort of trust with her? Something that you can use? Is that what you did with Clary? You offered her an out, the tiniest bit of trust and she latched _right on_, didn't she?"

"What?" I question.

"No, she offered you the out." Michonne throws a folded piece of paper through the bars at me, snapping, "Read that."

I do, opening it and instantly recognizing Clary's handwriting from the years I spent reading and rereading her last letter.

_Negan,_

_I'm sorry it has to end like this. I'm sorry this is my goodbye. I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. I'm sorry, Negan, that you're still stuck in that goddamn cage. I'm sorry I couldn't get you out, that Michonne wouldn't listen._

_I swear, this whole letter isn't one big apology._

_I'm writing to you because I know that Michonne won't tell you shit. You deserve to know. There's no easy way to say this, but the basic premise is: you were right. I won't get my happy ending._

_There's a new threat._

_This new group, we call them the skins. They wear the dead's skin as a mask. It hides their scent and helps them walk among them. There's no way of knowing if it's them until it's too late. That's how we found out—too late._

_They stabbed Jesus right in front of me. He died in my arms._

_Any possibility of a happy ending went out the window when he died. I have to avenge him, Negan. I have to be the Orphan again. I have no other choice._

_Negan, I truly believe that we've had it backwards this entire time. I know I can do a whole lot worse than you. You've never torn someone's throat out with your teeth—I have. You've never killed kids—I have. That's what I did that day, when Michonne closed off Alexandria. I am worse than you could've ever been, Negan, and that's a good thing._

_These skins won't know they're fucking with the wrong Orphan._

_I don't know if I'll make it back. I won't lie to you—you never lied to me. I know there's a very good chance I won't survive. I don't know how many there are, but I'll fight until they're all dead or I am._

_I want to thank you, Negan, for all that you've taught me and all that you've done for me. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for agreeing to do the dirty work and kill Rick Grimes, even though he beat us in the end. I'm sorry you lost it all because of me._

_I want you to know that, had you won, I would've been completely loyal to you and forever in your debt. I would've taken Carl's place at your side—and I would've found a way to still be at your side if he lived. We would've been unstoppable, you and me. I dream of that sometimes. If only, I suppose._

_Love always,_

_your tiger_

Slowly, I refold the letter, putting it down on my bookshelf before getting to my feet and facing Michonne. "You've been back for _four days_ and you didn't give it to me until _just now?"_

Michonne doesn't speak, and I start pacing, my mind racing with the thought of what Clary's planning. Of how she's probably risking herself doing something stupid or getting ready to risk herself doing something stupid right now. I spin on my heel, facing Michonne.

"You've gotta take me to Hilltop," I beg.

"Excuse me?" Michonne questions.

"Take me to Hilltop, Michonne!"

"Not a chance in hell!"

"Michonne, Michonne, please, you don't know her."

"I know her a lot better than you do, Negan," Michonne shoots back.

"You don't. Not anymore. You don't know her. I do. Michonne, I need to go. She's gonna get herself killed!"

"You don't know her," Michonne hisses. "You don't know anything about her, so stop pretending that you do. Stop pretending that you care, and just tell me what you know! Tell me what you tell Judith!"

"She likes hearing me talk."

"You like hearing yourself talk."

"So we have that in common. She comes down here to talk to me because I shoot straight with her. And now, maybe if you did that with her, you'd be talking to her right now instead of me."

Michonne lets out a humorless laugh. "_You_ shoot straight? Did you tell her what you did to Glenn? To Abraham? Yeah, I didn't think so."

"I've _always_ been honest with her. She asks questions, and I answer them. So yeah, she's heard those stories, too. I don't lie to her, Michonne, and I don't lie to Clary. Clary wrote to me because I'm the one person _she_ won't lie to. Michonne, you've gotta take me to Hilltop! She's gonna do something stupid and risk her life!" Michonne turns away, starting towards the door. "Michonne, please! She'll get herself killed!"

"Maybe she should," Michonne says after a minute. "You lost it all because of her, Negan, and now you'll lose her, too."

As Michonne leaves, the door swinging shut behind her, it hits me that her phrasing is far too similar to the letter to be a coincidence. She read it, and she knows.

She knows, and she'll let Clary die because of it.

"Michonne!" I shout after her, but she just keeps walking. "Michonne, _please! Please, don't let her die! Michonne!"_


	18. The Unforgiven

**XVII: The Unforgiven**

_**~Clary~**_

It's been three days since Daryl and Connie took off after Henry, three days after Daryl left despite promising me that he wouldn't. Tara was the only one he told that he was leaving. He promised to meet us at the Kingdom for the Fair, which begins tomorrow.

We've split into two groups, Alden's group taking one route to the Kingdom check if it's still clear. We take an alternate one, eyes peeled for the skins. I ride on Slick near the wagon, making small talk with Kelly to ease both of our nerves over our siblings being out here somewhere. I notice that Kelly signs some words as she says them, so I ask her, "Would you be willing to teach me?"

"Teach you what?" Kelly asks.

"Sign," I reply. "I'd like to be able to communicate with you and Connie better."

"Of course," Kelly says with a nod. As we ride, the others making small talk as well, Kelly starts teaching me the basics. It's a day's ride from Hilltop to the Kingdom, giving Kelly enough time to teach me the basics.

"Clary!" Tara calls back after a while, and Kelly and I both look ahead at her voice.

"I'll be back," I promise, urging Slick to the front and joining up with Tara. "Oh, I don't like this one bit."

Ahead of us, a tree has fallen across the road. "It doesn't look like it was cut down," Tara observes as others join us. "Must've fallen during the storm. We've gotta get the road cleared."

"We'll set up a perimeter," Yumiko volunteers. Tara agrees with a nod, and Yumiko takes off to gather Gage, Rodney, and Addy to help her keep watch. I climb off of Slick, tying him to one of the wagons before aiding the others in clearing the road.

Tara passes a branch off to me as Kelly approaches her, greeting, "Hey. Is there anything I can do? I'm… I'm kind of going crazy over here."

Tara nods. "Of course. Connie's gonna be okay, alright? She's with Daryl."

Tara walks off, grabbing another branch and continuing to clear the road. Yumiko catches Kelly's arm, telling her, "More like Daryl's gonna be okay—he's with Connie."

Magna steps in next, assuring Kelly, "They're gonna catch up with that kid and meet us at the Fair. They're probably already waiting for us."

Kelly grins as Magna walks off, and I pause next to her on my way to another branch. "If Connie's anything like you, she's perfectly fine. Daryl's a lot like me. They've got each other's backs, and I've got yours." Kelly grins, fist bumping me when I hold up my hand. "C'mon. You can help haul or chop—choice is yours."

We keep working, finishing up just as Yumiko and Magna run to meet us, calling, "Tara, Clary! We got sickos on the way!"

"How many?" Tara questions.

"Maybe ten?" Yumiko guesses. "It's hard to tell. They're coming out of the trees."

"We can handle 'em," Kelly declares.

"Yeah, but it could be those psychos in the skin suits," Tara counters.

"Earl, hitch the horses," I order, and he nods. "Kal, Oscar, you're with the rest of us. Gage, Addy, Rodney—guard the wagon. Stay sharp. Let's go."

Kal and Oscar stay towards the back as Tara and I take the lead, Yumiko, Magna, and Kelly spreading out behind us. I comment, "Miko, that's a lot more than ten."

"There were ten at first," Yumiko replies. "Watch their hands. Keep your eyes open for weapons."

We start taking them on, reducing their numbers to just a handful by the time there's shouting from the others. "C'mon!" I bark. "There's trouble at the wagon!"

The others follow me as I run for the wagon, arriving to shove a walker away from Addy before it grabs her, and she kills it. She gives me a nod of thanks, and I draw my extra dagger as more emerge from the woods.

"Circle up!" I order. "Back to back!"

We form a circle around one of the wagons, the walkers stumbling towards us. I look in the direction of the Kingdom as riders approach, a group of men that I don't recognize. They climb off their horses, charging into battle against the dead. Tara questions, "Who the hell are you guys?"

Their leader, a guy in a cowboy hat with a voice like Sam Elliott's, answers, "We're the Highwaymen."

With their help, we take down the rest of the walkers. We all take a moment to catch our breath, and I untie Slick, not wanting to stick around much longer. We got lucky this time that the skins weren't in the midst, but the next time, we might not be. I turn to the Highwaymen's leader, telling him, "Thanks for the assist, Eastwood."

Their leader tips his hat. "My pleasure, ma'am. That's what we're here to do. Keep you safe as we escort you to the fair."

"Well, in that case," I say, climbing on Slick's back. "Let's ride."

* * *

"Lady Cheyenne!" Ezekiel booms, his arms held wide as I approach. "Your return to the Kingdom was eagerly anticipated!"

"Your Majesty," I reply, nearly suffocating in Ezekiel's tight embrace. "It's been far too long."

"It's been nearly a year since you and Jesus visited us here." Ezekiel releases me, looking around. "Where is our friend?"

I step back, swallowing before saying, "Paul… Paul was murdered. They wore the dead's skin as a mask to hide amongst them."

"A murder most foul," Ezekiel comments, his voice low. "Strange and unnatural."

"And there's more out there."

"Oh, Clary," Carol says softly, hugging me. "I'm so sorry."

"We captured one. Lydia. She's Henry's age. We traded her for Alden and Luke, but Henry went out after her. Daryl and Connie went out after him." I pull away from Carol, knowing that Henry definitely would've been with his parents. "They're not here yet?" The monarchy shakes their heads. "And neither is Alden's group?"

Another shake. My heart skips a beat.

"We'll get caught up later," I promise. "I have to go find Alden. A group that big is bound to attract attention."

"I'll accompany you," Ezekiel volunteers.

"No," I object. "I'll be quicker on my own. Y'all get ready for the Fair. Keep an eye for Daryl's group. If they're not here when I get back... we'll figure it out then."

I swing myself onto Slick, turning him around and heading for the gate. Dianne opens it for me without a word, and I take off on the road leading away from the Kingdom. We've redrawn maps since we lost Rick, showing roads that were accessible and taking obstacles such as the fallen bridge into account. The main stretch of road that leads to the Kingdom was dubbed the Kingsroad by yours truly, and Ezekiel, dramatic as always, wasn't one to object to the name change.

About six miles out on the Kingsroad, I halt Slick as we come across a caravan. The wagon in the lead slows to a stop as I reach them, Slick trotting back and forth across the road as I search for Alden.

"Alden!" I call, not able to spot the blonde anywhere, my heart beginning to race. "Alden!"

Alden appears at the back of the group, maneuvering his horse around the wagons to ride up to join me. "Hey, short stack," he greets. "What're you doing out here?"

"You should've been there before us," I say, my heartbeat slowly returning to a normal rate now that I know Alden wasn't hurt. "I was worried."

"Oh, I'm sorry. The kids were getting restless, so we stopped for a bit so they could stretch their legs."

"Don't do this to me again, Alden! You scared the hell outta me. And Daryl and Connie still aren't back with Henry, at least not when I left the Kingdom."

"Hey, it's your brother. They'll be alright. Knowing him, he probably got hung up rooting through a store looking for parts to build another motorcycle for Frankenstein's monster." I let out a chuckle. "See? You know I'm right." Alden looks away from me, a grin spreading across his face. "Clary, I do believe you have an admirer."

I turn, following his gaze. Below me, a kid from the Hilltop, no older than eight, stands with wildflowers in his hands. He extends them towards me, and I ask, "Oh, Jaime, are these for me?"

He nods, too shy to speak, blushing. Jaime had taken to following me around Hilltop these past couple weeks, infatuated after he saw me take on a handful of walkers just outside the gate to save him and his mother while they were on an afternoon stroll. Alden chuckles, explaining, "He picked 'em when we stopped earlier to give them to you. Jaime, what were you going to tell her?"

"Alden helped me," Jaime says. "So he could say they're from both of us."

I slide off of Slick to accept the flowers. "Jaime, these are beautiful. I love 'em." I look up at Alden. "Jealous, pretty boy?"

Alden scoffs. "We need to keep moving."

I usher Jaime back to his mother, who rides in one of the first couple wagons. Suddenly, in warning, Alden shouts, "Clary!"

I spin around when I hear a whisper behind me, a knife being unsheathed. I come face to face with one of the skins, and I push Jaime behind me, far more concerned with keeping him safe than taking my revenge. Before the skin can even make a move, a spear appears in its head and the body drops.

I turn back around to face Jaime, offering the flowers he gave me. "Jaime, can you hang onto these for me until we get to the Kingdom? I gotta deal with this." He nods, taking them. "Alright, run to your momma."

Jaime takes off, his mother reaching for his hand and pulling him up into the wagon with her. She gives me a nod of thanks, a silent, _Thanks for protecting him._

"You alright?" Alden questions. I turn back at the sound of his voice, finding him on foot, his horse with mine, as he retrieves his spear.

"Jaime's alright," I answer.

Alden takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before he whispers, "I wasn't asking about Jaime."

"I'm okay, Alden," I assure him. I glance around him at the skin's body, it just now hitting me that it wasn't a walker that he killed but a person, however inhuman they may be. I look back up at Alden. "Thank you."

He nods. "Come on. Where there's one, there's more."

Marco reaches us, quickly halting his horse as he comments, "Holy shit, they really do come out of nowhere."

"And you never know it's them until it's too late," I add. "Look, we need to check the woods. I don't want them following us to the Kingdom."

Alden turns to Marco, inquiring, "Marco, can you keep them moving? Clary and I will check the woods, make sure they're clear, then catch up."

"You got it," Marco agrees. He takes the lead as Alden and I climb back on our horses, weapons at the ready as we venture into the woods from the side the skin stepped out of.

"Clary, are you… really okay?" Alden questions, looking over at me.

"I think I should be asking you if you're okay," I return. "First being captured by them, and then killing one to save me? However animalistic they are… that was still a person you killed. Alden, as long as I've known you, I've never seen you kill anyone."

"I think the world should learn that nothing fucks with my baby," Alden replies with a shrug. "Whether I'm the one in danger or you are, I think we're a bit of a force to be reckoned with."

I can't help but give him a smile. "I'm your baby?"

Alden's cheeks go pink. "Well, I-I-I mean, yeah? We're together now, right?" I nod. "Well, then, yeah, I guess so. Is that okay?"

"Alden, baby, it is more than okay," I assure him. I get as close to him as I can with our horses between us, Alden leaning over to meet me, pressing his lips to mine.

It's Slick that pulls me away.

He spins, rearing and throwing me. Alden's there, catching me as I fall back into his lap. I look up, searching for what freaked Slick out, only to find a skin in front of him. Their knife is drawn, advancing on my horse but staying out of the way of his hooves. I grab my knife, throwing it and sinking it into the head of the skin.

Slick settles down, the skin dead. I can tell he's still a bit on edge, and he definitely isn't the only one. Alden looks down at me, questioning, "You alright?"

"Yeah. Just glad you were here and not a damn cliff. Also, note to self—no more making out in the woods when skins can be on us at any second."

"Yeah, that might've been a bad idea," Alden agrees. He helps me down from his horse, and I take my knife from the skin's head before climbing back on Slick.

I stroke his neck, trying to further calm him, telling him, "Hey, don't throw me again, asshole." Slick skitters, keeping the two of us away from the skin's body. "It's alright, Slick. He's dead. We're okay." I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his neck. "You did good. We're okay now."

"Let's get back to the others," Alden suggests, looking around the woods. "I don't want to stay out here much longer."

We make our way back to the caravan, Marco riding towards us when we emerge from the woods. "Are they clear?" Marco questions.

"They are for now," I answer. "Let's just get to the Kingdom."

"If you guys take point, I'll go to the back," Marco volunteers. "Watch our asses."

Alden nods, and Marco takes over keeping watch from the rear while Alden and I lead the caravan down the Kingsroad. We ride mostly in silence, making the occasional small talk, both of us keeping a close eye for movement in the woods. Alden tears his eyes away from the trees, turning to me as he questions, "How were the roads for you guys?"

"Don't even get me started on fuckin' Eastwood and his crew."

* * *

_**~Kelly~**_

Clary and I walk side by side through the Kingdom's streets, lanterns beginning to light the way as the sun sets.

"It's not that I don't think she's capable," I say, glancing over at Clary as she tugs her flannel closer to her body. It's large on her—it has to be someone else's. "It's that I'd rather be out there, right next to Connie, because then I'd _know_ she's okay."

"I get that," Clary tells me, nodding. "Daryl and I have always had each other's backs."

I study her shirt for a moment. "Is that his?"

"Yeah," she answers. "It's, uh, it's his. Daryl and me, we got into a pretty bad fight a couple years ago. He was always outside the walls, looking for Rick or his body, and I'd go out to see him. Daryl didn't like me putting myself in danger. That's why we fought—he wanted me safe and I wanted to see him. He basically told me to stop coming out after him. Daryl broke my heart, and I couldn't face him. I didn't see him again for three years and it hurt like hell."

"I couldn't imagine not seeing Connie for that long."

"I could never bring myself to go after him, even though I missed him so damn much. He didn't want to see me. This shirt, it doesn't smell like him, but it was his, and that made me feel better. I started wearing it whenever I missed him… which was _a lot_. Then, he came back. He promised to never leave me again, but…"

"He and Connie went out after Henry," I finish.

"Look, Kelly, I don't want you to worry. If there's one thing that Daryl's good at, it's protecting people. He'll do _anything._ Connie is safe with him, I swear."

"I believe you," I assure her. "But I still want to go out and look for them tomorrow. We can't look tonight in the dark. We didn't find anything when the girls and I snuck out after Luke, we won't find anything leading to them."

"Okay," Clary agrees. "Tomorrow, you and me. But tonight, I need a damn drink."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I sit in silence, not playing anything, my drink resting on the lid of the grand piano, my armor on the bench beside me. People flow in and out of the foyer, but I hardly notice them as I take another drink. Someone asks, "Hey, why don't you play us something?"

I snap back to reality, asking, "What?"

"Play us a song, piano man," Jerry repeats.

"Oh, um," I say, closing my eyes as I think for a minute. My finger falls on a low E, and I bring my right hand down, rolling with it. I press octave As with my left hand, using my right to play the melody to "The Unforgiven." My fingers play on their own, my mind preoccupied with the sins of my past. Everything I've done, everything I've seen. Those that I've killed, those that I lost.

"They all haunt you," Jesus whispers in my ear, and I feel tears coming to my eyes at his voice. "We all haunt you. We are all what might have been. You battle constantly, but it's a fight you cannot win."

I can't take it anymore. The guilt of the dead, the fear of the ones that I love in danger.

I hold a chord, letting it ring out and fade. I close the fallboard over the keys, my breaths shaking. Footsteps approach from my right, but before anyone gets a chance to speak, I say, "Out."

No one moves.

I shoot to my feet, shouting, "All of you, get out! Go!"

They all exit the foyer, leaving me alone. Well, as alone as I can get without my ghosts.

"You aren't real," I say, turning on my heel to face Jesus.

"No, I'm not," Jesus says. "Neither is Carl."

"You know that," Carl adds. "You know that we're gone, but you still see us. It's because you can't let go."

"It's because this is the closest you can get to death without actually dying."

I close my eyes, turning away now. It's the first I've seen Carl's ghost in years, and it's the first I've seen Jesus's ghost at all. I grab my drink from the piano, downing the rest of it. I rush out of the foyer, running from my ghosts, as I make my decision about what I'm going to do with what remains of my life.

I stop outside Alden's room, composing myself. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, taking a breath. I poke my head inside Alden's room. He sits cross-legged in a chair by the window, reading a book. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one's watching me before leaning inside, softly saying, "Knock knock. Can we talk?"

"Hey, come on in," Alden says, immediately putting his book down. I step inside, closing the door behind me and leaning back against it. "Everything okay? You seem a little worried."

I admit, "It's Daryl, this whole Henry thing. Daryl going out after him. Crossing into _their_ lands and still not back yet. It's got me nervous."

"You know the drill. Sit." Alden gestures to his bed, and I walk over, kicking my shoes off and folding my legs under me. Alden takes one of my hands in his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "Talk to me, sweet summer rose. What's going on?"

"Daryl's out there, Alden. And…" I sigh, not wanting to but knowing that I have to. "And I have to go after him, all the while knowing that it's _really_ dangerous. As in, 'it'll be a miracle if we make it back alive' dangerous." I bow my head, kissing the back of Alden's hand. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it back, pretty boy."

Alden doesn't reply, and when I look up, I find that he's staring at me. He looks at me as if he'll never see me again, and to be quite honest, I don't know if he will. "Oh, I knew you'd go out," Alden says after a moment, shaking his head. "You still have your dagger?"

"Of course," I reply, unsheathing it. "I wouldn't go anywhere without it."

"When you go out, use it," Alden requests, similar to the way he had when he first gave it to me. "Keep yourself safe. Make it back."

For all I know, this could be my last night on earth.

I put the dagger on Alden's nightstand. I climb into his lap, straddling him as I cup his face in my hands. Alden sits back as I lean down, closing my eyes as I kiss him. Alden lets out a little gasp of surprise. We've only kissed a handful of times— stolen kisses here and there, hidden in the shadows; a linkage of pinkies underneath the table; hands lingering just a moment too long when we pass something to each other.

"I might be a little rusty," I admit. The last time I had done anything even remotely sexual was when I reprised my role as Sherrie last year—after Jerry suggested that our tri-community acting troupe do a production of _Rock of Ages_—with Jesus as Stacee and Alden as Drew.

"I don't care," Alden replies, moving to my neck. I moan softly as he finds a sensitive spot, running my hands over his biceps. Alden wraps his arms around my waist, moving back to my lips. He bites my lip, his hands skimming the edge of my shirt. "Maybe I was a little jealous, another guy giving you flowers."

"So do something about it," I challenge in between kisses. I pull Alden's shirt off as he starts unbuttoning mine, tossing his shirt over my shoulder. I slide my flannel off my arms, letting it drop to the floor, and Alden removes the shirt I had on underneath it. Alden works his way down my jaw and neck, sucking along my collarbone. He wraps his arms around my waist, his fingers skimming the scars scattered along my back, tracing the X before traveling lower. He grips my ass as I grind against him, moaning into my mouth as I kiss him. He stands, taking me with him. He walks me over to his bed, gently lowering me onto his bed and crawling on top of me.

Alden pauses, looking down at me as he questions, "You sure?"

I reach between us, unbuckling his belt. I lean up, purring in his ear, "Shut up and kiss me."

* * *

"Al, baby," I say softly. "You up?"

"Yeah," Alden mumbles from where his face is pressed into my shoulder. He lifts his head, movements sluggish due to his drowsiness. "What's up?"

"I want you to know, I hate going. It makes me feel like this was a one night stand and it most definitely isn't. But I do gotta go find Kelly before we leave tomorrow. She's never had to face the skins up close, and I want to make sure she's ready."

"Of course," Alden says, moving his arm off of my waist so I can get up. "I understand completely."

"I might be a while, so don't wait up for me."

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?"

"I dunno, early? Like around sunrise," I answer, climbing out of bed and getting dressed. Alden smirks when he sees me grab his shirt, putting it on and leaving my flannel—technically Daryl's flannel—unbuttoned overtop of it. "If you're awake, I'll come to say goodbye. If you're not, well, then this is goodbye."

"I'll try to be up and see you off."

"Thanks, Alden." I pull my boots on, walking towards his door after grabbing my dagger. I pause, turning to look back at him. Alden props himself up on his elbow, the sheet low and revealing the v in his hips. "I love you."

"Wha… what?"

"I love you," I repeat. "You don't gotta say it back, but I had to say it before I left. Just in case I don't get to say it again." Alden doesn't reply for a long time. "Well, at least say _something."_

"Come back alive," Alden says, "and then we'll see."

I give him a small smile, hiding the feeling of unease as I know I won't make it back. I sigh, knowing I can't walk out just yet. I rush back over to his bed, straddling him and leaning down to kiss him for what may be the last time. I wind my fingers into his hair as Alden wraps his arms around my waist, kissing him until I'm out of breath. I pull back slowly, our lips touching for a moment longer. Softly, I repeat, "I love you."

"I know," Alden replies.

"Did you seriously just Han Solo me?"

Alden laughs, and I can't help but smile as I take in the sight before me. Alden, a wide grin on his face, slightly out of breath and his hair tousled. The corners of his brown eyes crinkle as he laughs, looking up at me the same way Glenn looked at Maggie, the same way Eric looked at Aaron, the same way Carl used to look at me.

Even if he doesn't say it, I know he loves me. And that's good enough for me.

Alden reaches up, his thumb ghosting over my lips and cheek before stroking my hair. "Every time I look at you, I think I've seen the most beautiful thing I'll ever see, and then I look at you again."

I need to go now. One more sentence like that out of Alden, and I won't ever want to leave his arms. I need to go, but I can't just walk out the door.

I kiss him once more, whispering, "I love you so much."

As I pull away, Alden leans up, following my lips. He cups my face with one hand, keeping me close to him as he whispers, "You could stay."

"You know I want to, Alden."

"You don't have to go yet. You don't have to go at all. I'll bet you anything Daryl and the others will be here tomorrow. You could stay and we could have a happy ending."

It's Negan's words that leave my mouth as I murmur, "If you think this has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention."

I climb off of him before he can make me stay. As I reach the door, like Orpheus, I chance a look back at my love. He watches me go with such a mournful gaze, as if he knows that I won't be coming back despite my efforts to hide it. It takes all my willpower not to launch myself back into his arms again, to close the door behind me as I leave Alden behind.

It feels dirty, lying to Alden. We've always been truthful with each other, spilling our most guarded secrets. He was the only one I ever told about Carl's ghost—it was Alden that told Jesus later on. He was the one that I told what really happened out there, the true story behind the X branded on my back. I was the one that he confided in about the revenge he took upon the people that killed his brother.

We've always been truthful, which is why it feels so _wrong_ walking out of his room. I told Alden I was going to find Kelly and get her up to speed on the skins before we went out after Daryl, Connie, and Henry in the morning. I'm not. I'm leaving in the night, going on my own because I don't want to risk losing anyone else.

I make a pitstop in the foyer where I left my armor, putting it on before continuing on. I make my way towards the towering oak that's beside the wall, knowing that I can climb it and sneak over the wall. I halt when I see what I have to go through, clutching at my throat as it feels like the fog that was in the cemetery that night is choking me now that I have to make my way through the Kingdom's cemetery to leave in the night. I clutch at my throat as I fall to my knees, struggling to breathe.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jesus rushes, kneeling beside me. "Hey, look at me, Clary." I turn to his ghost, removing my hands from my throat and clutching his hand as he rests it on my cheek. "Clary, hey, I'm here. What is it?"

"The cemetery," I whisper.

"The cemetery, okay. Hey, I need you to breathe with me, alright? Come on. In, out. I'll help you through this. In, out." Jesus takes a deep breath, gesturing for me to mirror him. When I manage to get my breathing under control, he smiles. "That's my Clary. We'll be okay."

"You're dead. How okay can you be?"

"That's fair," Jesus says with a small laugh. "You know, I still remember finding you that night, in our cemetery. Well, it wasn't a cemetery yet, but it would be."

"I see you and I see Carl because I want to remember your faces, your voices," I say, telling him what I remember. "I won't forget you. I'll remember you, but it won't be for long."

"Poppet, please," Jesus says. "I made you promise not to go out after the enemy, and you promised me you wouldn't."

"I promised not to go after Negan," I correct. "I have to go, Paul. I have to avenge you. Though… perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to go to Negan. I could use some backup, but I won't. I won't risk anyone. It's just gonna be me." I draw the blade Alden gifted me and stare down at it. "I'll bring the full wrath of Hell with me. They will regret _ever_ being born."

I turn to Jesus, resting my hand on his cheek. I swear, "I will kill as many as I can before they kill me. And then we'll be together once more. I'll see you again and everyone else we've lost, too. I love you, Paul. Make sure you tell everyone else we love that I'm coming."

I close my eyes, dropping my hand from his cheek, and when I open them again, Jesus is gone. I take a breath, sheathing my dagger as I get to my feet, crossing through the cemetery towards the oak. I let out a sigh of relief as I'm through, then look over my shoulder to make sure no one is watching me. I climb up the tree, taking one last look at the Kingdom before heading over the wall and setting off into the night.


	19. XXVII

**XVIII: XXVII**

_**~Alpha~**_

"_Lydia, oh Lydia  
__Say, have you met Lydia?  
__Oh, Lydia, the tattooed lady."_

I sing softly as I look around the overturned wagon, stepping over a body before one of my Whisperers drags it away. I kneel next to the woman of the group, her eyes open as she lies dead from a snapped neck thanks to Beta.

I draw my knife, prodding my thumb along the edge. I let out a sigh—it's not sharp enough. I stand, taking off my belt and using it to sharpen my blade. I continue to hum under my breath as I put my belt back on, then kneel next to the woman, playing with her hair for a moment, the same way I used to play with my Lydia's.

I brush her bangs back before placing my knife at the edge of her scalp and making the first incision.

"_She has eyes that folks adore so  
__And a torso even more so  
__Lydia, oh Lydia, that encyclopedia  
__Oh, Lydia, the queen of tattoo."_

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I've been searching all day, but I've found nothing. The Fair would've begun while I've been gone, and I know the others are probably starting to get worried since I'm still not back. And Alden would've figured out that I lied to him.

I keep pushing nonetheless, praying to come across them.

The skins are hard to track, any trail left behind by them blending in with the walkers' trails. They dip their shoulders and mimic the walkers' stumble, only abandoning the facade when they near us.

Leaves rustle behind me, and I slow, turning my head just enough to spot two walkers out of my peripheral. My crossbow is already in my arms, and I spin, firing on one of the walkers. The bolt sinks into its eye, and it drops.

The second walker jumps back. A human reaction.

The skin is momentarily distracted by the walker going down right beside them, giving me enough time to reload my crossbow.

"Drop the knife," I order, moving closer as I raise my crossbow on them. "I know you've got one. You all do."

The skin unsheathes their knife, dropping it to the ground. They start to raise their hands, but they reach behind their back. The skin starts to pull a gun on me, but I already saw it. I fire, my bolt sinking into their shoulder. A female voice cries out as the skin drops the gun, falling to the ground.

I kick the knife and gun away as I drop my crossbow, pouncing on the skin. I grab the mask, the skin fighting me. With my free hand, I grab the bolt, twisting it in her shoulder and causing her to scream. She stops fighting, and I pull off her mask. I pause for a second to take in the look of terror on her face before punching her out cold.

* * *

I sharpen my knives using my belt, passing the time until the skin comes around. I've already dug a handful of traps around the perimeter of this clearing in case any walkers stumble across us or she makes an escape attempt, and then I covered them with leaves to hide them. The gun was empty, nothing but a way to keep a possible attacker away.

I put my belt back on when the skin I've tied up lets out a moan, signalling that she's awake. I get to my feet, standing before the skin. I say, "I hope you're rested, 'cause we've got a lot to cover."

The skin jerks against her restraints, demanding, "Who are you?"

"Well, you can call me any number of things—I've heard it all. But most of my enemies, they call me the Orphan. I really don't give a shit what they call you. That's not what I want to know. Where's my brother?"

"I don't even know who your brother is," the skin replies.

"You do."

"I really don't."

"I can do this the hard way if that's how you wanna do it," I say with a shrug. I draw my knife, the skin eyeing it as I step closer. She tries to pull away, turning her head, but she doesn't get very far. She lets out a cry that's a mixture of pain and surprise as I make the first cut across her cheek.

She looks back and me, and I order, "Talk."

"I don't know where your brother is!" she insists.

I make another cut, this one on her opposite cheek. She gives me the same answer again, so I make another cut in another spot, and the cycle continues. Blood drips from each of her wounds, and I glance over my shoulder as I hear a walker approaching, drawn by the sound we've been making and the scent of her blood.

The walker stumbles right into the trap that I had set up, its foot getting stuck. The walker's not going anywhere, and it's really not posing much of a threat at the moment.

The skin pants as I pull my knife away yet again, trying, "I've already told you. I don't know where your brother is!"

I clench my jaw, wanting to just kill her already, but I'm determined to get something out of her. I command, "Pick a body part."

"What?"

"Pick a body part to live without. And that's what I'm gonna cut off."

The skin stares at me. "You can't."

"Oh, trust me, I can," I say. "You see, everyone else that I know that's lost a limb, they didn't have a choice. They could only hope they'd live, that what they lost was something that they could survive in this world without. You're lucky. You get to choose what you're losing."

The skin doesn't speak.

"No?" I question. "Dealer's choice, then. I can do that." I glance towards the walker, its foot still stuck in the trap. A far more wicked thought crosses my mind, and I can't hide my grin. "I've got it. Say, what's your dominant hand?"

"My right?" the skin replies, not understanding my motive.

"Just because I'm feeling nice, I'll give you a chance of survival. I'll take your left," I say, then add, "First."

I untie her left hand, taking it in mine and extending her arm away from her body. She gets it now, struggling against me, but it's no use. I tighten my grip on her hand, making sure it hurts, as I draw my knife.

It's not a clean cut, my knife only going about halfway through. The skin screams, and I make another swing, blood spurting on me as her hand separates from her arm.

"No!" the skin sobs. "No!"

I look down at the hand, studying it for a second as blood drips from it. I comment, "Don't really need that anymore."

I toss it to the walker like you'd toss a dog a bone. The walker growls in response, the skin sobbing from a mixture of pain and horror. I tie the skin's arm up again, the stump to the sky so she doesn't bleed out. Her head is turned away from the walker eating her hand, eyes squeezed shut.

"Look," I tell her, grabbing her chin with one hand, turning her head to the walker. I open her eyes, forcing her to watch. "Ooh, he looks like a hungry fella, doesn't he?"

"You're insane!" the skin cries.

"You think he'll want seconds?" I ask. "I think he will."

"No, please!"

"Then tell me what you know!"

"I don't know anything!" she repeats. "I don't know!"

"Hoss is getting hungry," I warn, the walker growling as if in response. "It'll all stop if you talk."

"I already told you!" the skin sobs. "I don't know who your brother is or where he's at!"

I sigh, then turn to the walker. "Hey, hoss, you want some more? You're a hungry fuck, ain't ya?"

"No, no, please!" the skin begs, her voice a shriek, as I untie her remaining hand. "Please! I'll give you anything! Just stop!"

"Anything?"

"Anything!"

"Tell me where my brother is."

"I can't give you something I don't know!"

"Then I can't stop."

Her screams ring through the woods again, and I get farther through her wrist this time, having a better idea of the force I need to use to sever her hand. I still don't get it off clean, so it takes another swing. The walker abandones the bones it was gnawing on when I throw it a fresh hand.

I keep questioning the skin, slapping her or making a new cut every time she comes close to passing out or gives me an answer I don't like. The walker is getting riled up with the scent of her blood in the air, and I know that the more it's smelling her, the less that trap will hold it.

It doesn't take me long after I cut off her other hand for me to decide that I've been wasting my time on her. I flip my knife in my hand, slicing it across her throat. There was once a time that I flinched when blood spurted on me, but I've become so used to it that it doesn't even faze me. The skin chokes on her own blood, and I grab my crossbow, throwing it over my shoulder as I go to leave. The walker snarls, desperate for her flesh.

As I pass by it, the walker pulls itself free, the trap ripping skin off of its leg. The walker doesn't even pay attention to me as I sidestep it, shoving it towards the skin tied to the tree. I turn away when the walker starts tearing into her, stepping over my traps and leaving the scene.

I'll find another skin, I decide. One that knows more than the first one. I glance down at the blood splattered over me, at the blood coating my knife. I now know that I have what it takes to get what I want, that there's nothing holding me back from ruthlessly killing the skins. I know that I can track them down like I'm hunting them for sport.

I clean my knife off, sheathe it, and set off in search of my next victim. I will do better next time, get more information and prolong my questioning before I kill the next skin. I will take more from them, be more creative.

I am calm. My heart beats at a steady rhythm, low and consistent.

A low heart rate is a true indicator of one's capacity for violence.

* * *

I sneak up on a walker from behind, driving my knife into the back of its head. It drops, taking my knife with it. I curse under my breath, leaning down to pull my knife out. When I notice that there's no stitching in the back, I curse again.

Just another regular walker.

As I start to stand, something ahead in the forest catches my eye. The majority is hidden by trees, but I can see a wagon wheel up in the air. I look around, realizing that I'm near a trail that's a shortcut to the Kingsroad.

_Those are my people._

I take my next few steps carefully, avoiding crunchy leaves and fallen branches. I hide behind a tree as I observe the area for a few moments, searching for any sign of movement. The wagon has been overturned, its goods spilling out from the bed. The horses that were pulling it are nowhere to be seen, and neither are the people that were in it.

Seeing no movement in the time that I've been here, I move forward. There's an open box, wooden coins with an H carved into them spilling out of it.

"Hilde," I murmur, picking one up. She's been making these since she came to Hilltop a few years ago. I look around once more, finding no sign of her or her husband, Miles.

"Miles!" I hiss, just in case they're hiding somewhere nearby. I know that they're hiding is extremely unlikely, that they were most likely attacked by someone or something. "Hilde!"

As I put the coin back with the others, I notice a few have splatters of blood. It only confirms my working theory that Hilde and Miles were attacked, whether by walkers or the skins.

I keep my eyes closer to the ground, searching for any trails or tracks. I let out a small sigh of relief when I find one—I have something to go off of now. I kneel next to one of the trails left behind, reaching down to touch it.

The trail's less than a day old.

Whether it was Hilde or Miles or one of the people with them, they were dragged away from the wagon. Walkers don't drag people, they kill them on the spot.

_It wasn't walkers that did this. They're here._

* * *

_**~Aaron~**_

I can't fight the smile that crosses my face when I see the door to Clary's room open, relieved that she's changed her mind and come back to us. I push it open the rest of the way, starting, "Chey, I'm—"

I cut myself off when I see that it's Gracie sitting on her sister's bed, holding the stuffed duck that Clary had found for her when she was three. I lean against the doorframe, greeting, "Hey."

She spares me a quick glance but doesn't speak.

"What's going on?" I ask, and Gracie shrugs. "Talk to me, honey. What's the matter?"

"I miss her," Gracie says, hugging her duck tighter.

"Oh, Gracie." I sit on the bed next to her, wrapping my arm around her. Gracie leans into my chest, and I press a kiss to the top of her head. "I miss Clary, too."

"Then why didn't you make her come with us?"

"Because she's an adult, Gracie. She can make her own decisions, and she made the decision to stay at Hilltop to defend them."

"We left her in danger, Daddy."

I close my eyes, unable to deny it, unable to tell Gracie that it'll be alright because I did leave my eldest daughter in danger.

"I want to go back."

"The skins know where Hilltop is. It'd be dangerous. We're safe in Alexandria."

"Are we?" Gracie questions. "Are we safe, Daddy?"

I pull back just a bit to look down at her. "What do you mean?"

"Alexandria isn't safe like people think. Enemies have been inside Alexandria."

"Negan's back in his cell. It's safe."

"That's not what I meant. Michonne's friend."

I let out a sigh. "You were supposed to be asleep, Gracie. Not listening to my conversation with Michonne."

"Daddy, this isn't where we belong. We both know that. This isn't our home, not anymore."

I pause, looking down before I ask, "Do you want to go back?" I look over at my daughter. "Go back to Hilltop?"

"That's where we belong," Gracie says. "That's where our family—our _real_ family is. Tara, Maggie when she comes back. Clary. Daddy, we never should've left Clary."

I nod slowly, sighing softly before I make my decision. "Okay. I'll talk to Michonne when she gets back, and then we'll go home. We'll go back to Clary and Hilltop, where we belong."

Gracie smiles, hugging me tightly. "I knew you'd do the right thing, Daddy."

* * *

_**~Beta~**_

A small group of us remained at the wagon, lurking in the trees so as not to be seen. I'm glad I decided to stay myself when the girl appears, armed with a crossbow on her back and two knives on her belt.

_No gun,_ I note. _This should be easy. Key word being "should." The crossbow poses a problem. We need to get rid of that, and the armor, too. She's trespassing. She doesn't get to live._

Wait a minute. The crossbow.

That asshole that shoved me down the elevator shaft used one, too.

I listened in as Lydia told Alpha what she knew, what information she'd managed to gather. She knew who the people that Alpha met at the gate were. I'd already made the connection that the one that pushed me down the elevator shaft was the man, Daryl. I had overheard Lydia telling her mother that the girl that accompanied him called herself the Orphan, and Lydia was pretty sure she was the one Daryl meant when he said he loved his sister.

I recall Daryl's face, noting the resemblance (and the crossbow) between him and the girl examining the wagon.

_This is the Orphan,_ I realize. _This is the one Alpha ordered me to kill if I ever saw her because of the threat she poses to the rest of us._

The Orphan stands, drawing one her knives as she calls, "I know you're out there, somewhere. Face me now and I'll be quick."

To the two Whisperers on my left, I quietly order, "Go. Get the knives and the crossbow. Get the armor off her."

They nod, getting to their feet. They circle around the Orphan before emerging, one on each side. She turns on her heel, turning back and forth but only able to keep her eyes on one of my Whisperers.

"What did you do to my people?" the Orphan demands. "Where's my brother? Where the fuck is he?!"

"This is our land, not yours," Lars tells her. "Your people wandered into our land."

"_Where's my brother?!" _the Orphan shouts. When she gets no reply, she lunges forward, killing Lars.

Dante makes his move, attacking the Orphan from behind. He disarms her, knocking her to the ground. Just as I instructed, he rips her armor off of her, making it easier for me when it's my turn to face her. The Orphan manages to flip Dante so he's the one on the ground, and she rolls away, grabbing her knife.

"Stop her," I growl, urging the rest of the Whisperers out into the open. "But don't kill her. She's mine."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I turn my back on the second skin to kill the first one, and they take advantage of it. They attack, but they don't try to kill me. They kick my hand, forcing me to drop my knife, and rip my crossbow off of my shoulder before kicking me to the ground.

He throws my crossbow off to the side, straddling me and pinning my arms down with his knees as they pull my armor off of me, throwing it in the opposite direction. I manage to knock him back just enough to get my legs free, wrapping around him and flipping the skin under me. I start to throw a punch, but the skin shoves me off of him first.

My back hits the dirt, the skin getting to his feet. I roll, picking up my knife. Skins emerge from the woods, more this time, surrounding me on all sides. I flip my knife, ready for a fight. I leave Alden's dagger on my belt in case I need a back up. They charge all at once, converging from every side with blades drawn.

I duck the first one's swing, bringing my knife up and stabbing them in the stomach. I pull my knife out, spinning away, only to be met with a punch. I stagger back, right into the waiting arms of one of the skins. I suck in a gasp of air as they plunge a knife into my stomach, unprotected now due to my lack of armor. I bring my knife up, just trying to strike back, and manage to stab them in the neck.

The skin releases me, but I lose my knife in their neck as I drop to my knees, crawling away from them. I push myself to my feet, one hand pressing against my bleeding side. A tall skin emerges from the woods, catching the one I stabbed in the neck. Instead of helping them, the tall one uses my knife to slit the skin's throat, but not before growling, "I said she's _mine."_

I look around as I stagger to the middle of the circle the skins have formed around me, searching for a chance to make a break for it. There is none.

I let out a cry as I'm knocked to the ground by a skin I didn't see, trying to get my hands under me to push myself to my feet and draw my weapon. A hand grasps my hair, and I shout in pain as the hand drags me onto my back. The skin above me—the one that claimed me—pulls me towards him, and I struggle against him, crying out, "No, no! Let me go!"

My voice rises to a shriek as the skin turns, dragging me along behind him. "No!" I shriek, crying and just _praying_ someone would show up and save me. "No! Dad! Daddy, help me! Daryl! Alden! _Daryl! Please, Daryl!_"

The skin that took my armor raises a finger to his lips, shushing me. He chuckles at my fear, bouncing along and clicking his tongue absentmindedly as if this is just an everyday walk in the woods. They flank me as the skin drags me by my hair, dispersing once he stops. He pulls me to my feet, and I try to free myself, struggling, fighting against him. It's all useless—he's too strong for me to break free. He reaches forward, touching the dagger on my belt.

"Pretty," he comments, almost as if he's patronizing me for having a beautiful blade as he pulls my dagger out of its sheath. He leans down to be at my level, studying me. "You call yourself the Orphan," he says. "I call myself Beta."

"I don't give a shit who you are," I shoot back, ignoring the throbbing pain in my stomach and the blood running down my chin from my split lip now that I'm face to face with who, by his name, I can only assume is Alpha's second in command. I turn my head, spitting out the blood in my mouth before looking back at Beta. "All that I care about is the fact that you're one of these sick fucks wearing the dead to prom. It's because of you and your people that my best friend is dead. And for that, I'll kill you."

"You won't kill me."

"Then I'll die trying."

"You will." Beta pushes me down, growling, "On your knees."

My knees hit the ground, and I feel tears flowing from my eyes. It isn't because of the fact that I know I'm going to die very soon—it's the memory. It's been nearly ten years, and I still remember that night. I can still feel the blood that painted me, the pain in my shoulder and heart. I still remember the terror I felt when Negan forced me to my knees that night he changed _everything._

Beta knows he has power over me, and he flaunts it. It doesn't matter what I do—my fate is up to him, and I know he doesn't like me very much. I snuck onto their lands, after all, and killed their people.

It's not like they didn't do the same to us first.

I watch Beta as he twirls my dagger—the dagger Alden gifted me with the hope that it would keep me from dying—in his hands. Even though it's an average sized dagger, the blade looks tiny in Beta's large hands—he'd be taller than Aaron if they were standing shoulder to shoulder, and Aaron towers over me. Someone's _definitely_ been eating his Wheaties. Beneath the mask, I can see the smirk Beta still wears on his face as he forces my head up, the sharp edge of the dagger biting into my neck. He questions, "Any last words?"

"'Then out spake brave Horatius, the Captain of the Gate,'" I quote, remembering Aaron saying it. I push myself up, standing tall just like Abraham did that night, even if we are on our knees. "'To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late. And how can a man die better than facing fearful odds for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?'"

I pull away, ducking under the blade and pushing Beta away from me. I vault to my feet in a kip up, knowing I can't just slip away. I know I'll have to fight my way out of this one, starting with the behemoth that's Beta.

"Remember what I taught you," Jesus says in my ear. "I trained you for years. Now's the time to use it. Fight, Clary. Fight! Fight for us! For me! Fight for me, poppet, and everyone that loves you!"

I stand before Beta as Jesus disappears, weaponless except for my fists. Beta laughs, "Lydia said you were a fighter. Come on, girl. Show me what you've got." Beta puts his hands behind his back. "I won't even fight back until you get a hit in."

I charge, and Beta sidesteps my first punch, which would've connected with his jaw. I throw another, this one landing on his stomach.

Beta doesn't even move.

He grins, showing off golden teeth, as he looks down at me and says, "You got your hit in, girl."

"Help me, Daryl," I whisper, staring up at Beta in abject terror. I start to back up, hoping to get away from him. It doesn't really matter though, as Beta's faster than me.

Beta reaches me in one stride. As he moves, he growls, "You… are _nothing_ to me."

I don't even have time to process the blade piercing my chest before everything stops.

* * *

_**~Beta~**_

"Then out spake brave Horatius," says the Orphan below me, reciting her last words, "the Captain of the Gate: 'To every man upon this earth, death cometh soon or late. And how can a man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his gods?'"

The Orphan abruptly shoves me away from her, ducking under the blade. She vaults to her feet in a kip up, and I realize that Lydia was right. This orphan is a fighter, a trained one.

I want to see what she can do. She'll be dead at my hands before long, so why shouldn't I have a little fun?

She stands before me, her feet in a fighting stance, her hands raised and curled into fists. I laugh, nodding as I say, "Lydia said you were a fighter. Come on, girl. Show me what you've got." The Orphan doesn't move for a moment, and I put my hands behind my back, placing the dagger that I took from her behind my back as well. "I won't even fight back until you get a hit in."

The Orphan attacks, and I sidestep the first punch she throws. It misses me completely, and she's turnt, her back to me. It's the perfect opportunity to stab her in the back, but I spare her for the moment—I did say I wouldn't fight against her until she gets a punch in.

The Orphan pivots on her heel, landing her freebie punch on my stomach. I let out a quiet grunt, but her punch doesn't faze me much aside from that. I see the blood drain from her face upon realizing that she couldn't move me with a right hook to the stomach.

I grin, knowing that I can fight back now. "You got your hit in, girl."

"Help me, Daryl," she pleads. The Orphan looks up at me with terror-filled eyes, taking baby steps away. I don't think she realizes that she won't get anywhere taking that small of a step, her fear taking over.

I bring my hands out from behind my back, her dagger in my hand. The Orphan doesn't have a chance to react. She's frozen in place, paralyzed with dread.

"You," I growl as I make my final advance, "are _nothing_ to me."

I drive the blade into her heart.

She's dead before her body—with the dagger still protruding from her chest—hits the ground.

"That's a shame," I tell her body as I kneel beside it. "You could've been one of us."

I pull the dagger with the beautiful antler handle out of her chest. I sheathe it in my belt, claiming it as my own. It's small, but it'll be a good backup in case of an emergency. I look up, finding Alpha standing beside me, a machete in her hand. Alpha chides, "What have I told you about playing with your prey?"

"Oh, come on," I sigh. "She wasn't going anywhere. What's it matter how she ended up dead as long as she's dead?"

A smile twitches on Alpha's lips. "Don't do it again."

"Fine, I won't have any more fun."

Alpha shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes. "Get her up. I have others."

"You should take Dante with you," I advise. "He did good."

"I thought he would," Alpha says with a nod.

I lift the Orphan's body up to her knees, holding her head up. I hold her hair clear, and Alpha separates the Orphan's head from her body in one swipe. Her body drops to the ground, her head dripping blood as it sways in my grasp. I take her head in my hands, looking down at it with a wicked grin. I tell her, "Wait until your brother gets a look at you."

* * *

**AN: This is the most fucked up chapter I've ever written. Am I sorry? A little. But it's important to note that Clary's last words are also the first thing she said in the first book in my series, **_**A Dance With the Reaper**_**. Am I sorry about that? Very.**


	20. But A Whimper

**XIX: But A Whimper**

_**~Carol~**_

Ezekiel is all smiles as he greets Fairgoers, making his way through the crowd as he approaches. Kelly came to me after Clary failed to meet her this morning, not wanting to wait any longer to go searching for her sister. We gathered a few others, mostly her group, and I volunteered to go along as well.

Ezekiel reaches me, and I tell him, "You sounded great up there."

"I should be going with you," he argues, trying once more. "It's my duty to go with you. I'm his father."

"Yeah, you're also the King," I reply. "You have a duty to be here. It's bad enough I'm leaving. If you go, too, everyone's gonna want to know why. We put months of work into this Fair. The Kingdom needs you here."

"Are we going or what?" Kelly questions, bouncing on her feet. "My sister's out there somewhere. Daryl's out there somewhere, your son is out there somewhere."

"No, they're not," Magna says with a smile. We all turn as the gate opens, Dog running ahead of the wagon pulling in. Kelly runs to greet her sister, the rest of their group following behind her.

"Holy shit," Ezekiel breathes as we see who's steering the wagon. "She came."

"I don't believe it," I add, watching as Michonne climbs out once the wagon has stopped. Henry climbs out from the other side, and Ezekiel and I rush to meet him. I pull him into a tight hug, fighting tears. I hold him for a moment, relieved that he's safe, before pulling back to look him over. "You can't ever run away like that again. Not ever again."

"Okay, I won't," Henry swears. "I promise."

Ezekiel pulls both of us into a hug, and I press a kiss to Henry's head before pulling away. I turn to Daryl, scolding, "And you… You had me worried sick."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin before he extends an arm. I wrap him in a hug, Daryl holding me tight and wiping my tears off my cheeks when we break apart. He questions, "Where's my girl?"

"I take it you and Clary have made up, then?" I question. "Dixons back together again?"

"For the most part. I made a comment about Alden, and she got pissed, then we made up, and I promised not to leave her again, then your kid ran away…"

"Oh sure. Blame my kid."

Daryl chuckles. "I promised her I wouldn't leave again, and I left. I need to make it up to her."

"She's somewhere. You can make it up."

Daryl dips his head in a nod, and I overhear Ezekiel greeting Michonne behind us, Michonne telling him, "I was in the neighborhood, so…"

Ezekiel laughs, shaking her hand as I rejoin him. I look down at the young girl by her side, and I can't believe how big she's gotten since I last saw her years ago. I look to Michonne to make sure I'm right, asking, "Judith?"

Michonne nods, and I turn to Judith. "Do you remember us? It's been so long."

"I've been drawing pictures of you since I was little. You're Carol, and you're the King. Your hair got really long."

I can't help but laugh. "It did."

"I assume Clary's here," Michonne says. "Do you know where she is?"

"I'm sure she's around somewhere," I reply, surprised by Michonne's sudden topic change and the coolness in her voice. "Why?"

"No reason," Michonne says. "Just needed to ask her something about Negan is all."

"The plan was to bring Henry," Tara says from behind me. "Just Henry."

I glance towards the girl standing a few feet behind my son, realizing that _this_ is Lydia.

"Gather up all the leaders," Michonne decides. "We have a lot to talk about."

* * *

_**~Tara~**_

Michonne sighs from where she stands at stage right, her back to the wings. "I know I haven't always seen eye to eye with everyone in this room," she states. "But I never stopped caring about any of you." Michonne glances down to where Judith sits in the audience with Henry and Lydia. "I was just trying to protect my family and do right by my people. Alexandria's future is here. Together, with you. And we lost sight of that for a while. But… I'm here now. We're here now."

"I've taken an informal vote with the other Council members at the Fair, and we all agree," Gabriel says, having followed behind with a few other Alexandrians after Michonne decided to come. "Alexandria is willing to grant asylum to Lydia. She's one of us now. We hope the rest of you can join us in doing the same."

"Thank you," Lydia says, lacing her fingers through Henry's as he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'll do whatever I can to earn my keep and pay you back."

"If her mother retaliates, it's gonna be against Hilltop, not Alexandria," I state. "I have to do right by my people, and everyone here knows that Clary would be agreeing with me right now. I thought we were on the same page."

"We were," Michonne says, a little tense now that I've mentioned Clary. "And… look, when she came to my gates, I asked her to run away. And when she didn't, I was angry."

"Then you know why I'm not okay with this."

"I do. I also know why Rick didn't trust me when I showed up at the gates of the prison. And how people didn't trust you after seeing you on the other side of the Governor's firing line."

"I was gonna kill you on sight when you washed up on our shore," Rachel chimes in.

"Okay, fair," I acknowledge, nodding.

"Lydia didn't choose where she came from," Michonne continues, "but she chose where she wanted to be. Just like everybody in this room."

"I left some of my best fighters at Hilltop, but if Daryl's right about these skin job numbers, it's not enough people."

"We should take a group to Hilltop to protect 'em," Daryl decides. "Just in case."

"It's a good idea," Carol agrees. "I'll take some from the Kingdom."

"Oceanside can spare some fighters," Rachel offers.

Gabriel adds, "Alexandria can, too."

"So we head out in the morning?"

"No," Carol argues. "They could take advantage if we wait. We should go today."

"Agreed," Gabriel says with a nod. "But sending more people is only a short-term solution."

"In order to face this threat, the four communities need to present a united front," Michonne declares. "Which is why I'm proposing a mutual protection pact. An attack against one community is an attack against all of us."

"Together, we can make these people think twice before moving against Hilltop."

Ezekiel and Carol share a look before Ezekiel announces, "The leadership of the Kingdom is very amenable to this idea."

Rachel agrees with a nod, and I smile, asking, "Okay, so how do we seal it? Spit and shake? Blood oath?"

"I have just the thing."

Ezekiel disappears into the wings, returning a moment later with a large paper that I can't help but chuckle at when he shows me what it is. It's the charter that I took when I left Alexandria years before, not trusting it in the hands of Michonne. He lays it out on the table on center stage, the leaders gathering around it.

Michonne takes one look at it before questioning, "How did you get this?"

"Well, he's magic, obviously," I say, then turn to Michonne. "I may have taken a few things with me when I left. I did what I thought was right. I'm sorry for the way it went down."

"Me, too," Michonne agrees. "And thank you. You were right."

"You were, too."

"I knew this day would come," Ezekiel says. "Never doubted it for a moment." He signs it first in the spot for the Kingdom, his signature large but leaving enough room for his queen. "John Hancock, eat your heart out."

He passes it to Carol next, who signs it below him. Carol passes the marker on to Rachel, signing for Oceanside. Rachel turns the charter to me, handing over the marker. I pause as I lean down to sign the charter, looking up at the other leaders around me. "You know," I say, "it should be Clary signing this with me."

"Kelly couldn't find her this morning," Carol recalls. "But Slick's still in the stables, so she's gotta be here. It is a bit odd, though, not having seen her yet."

"Well, come to think of it, I haven't seen Alden all day, either."

"No shit, they finally got together?" Rachel questions.

"They're not very good at hiding that Clary's spent the night in Alden's room every night since Aaron left."

"Even if she's… with Alden," Daryl says, albeit a little tense, "it doesn't matter. Clary doesn't want to lead Hilltop. That's your job. It's for you to sign."

I sigh softly before signing my name on the charter. I purposely leave enough room so that Clary can sign it later once we find her. I give the marker to Michonne last, who looks at it for a moment before shaking her head. She passes the marker to Gabriel, deciding, "It should be the Head of the Council."

Gabriel takes the marker, signing his name and sealing the deal.

* * *

_**~Alden~**_

Despite Luke losing our bet, he and Enid managed to pressure me into singing with him at the Fair tonight. Then, Enid left me _alone_ with him, allowing Luke to badger me with questions about what I wanted to sing.

I got a momentary reprieve when Kev, the bassist for the Kingdom-based band, approached me, asking if I knew where Clary was because he wanted to talk about a possible reunion. Luke turns to me as Kev sets off in another direction, saying, "You didn't tell me Clary was in a band."

"R.O.C.K. kind of fizzled out about a year ago," I tell him. "She wasn't even originally a part of the band. Their frontman got sick and she took over for a show, then stuck with it. Clary and Aaron used to make more trips to the Kingdom, but they couldn't make it as often and R.O.C.K. fell apart. I'd love it if they did a reunion show—they were awesome. You should've heard the first time they did 'Welcome the Jungle.'"

"Hey, we could open for them," Luke suggests. "Maybe do some classic rock, too."

I let out a chuckle, but it's short and forced. I see Kev in the distance, regrouping with the other two members, Ringo and Olivia. He gestures in my direction, and I realize that they've all been searching for Clary. They can't find her, and that's starting to worry me.

I keep walking with Luke nonetheless, but a moment later, I spot Kelly with her sister up ahead. I don't know why, but the sight of Kelly within the Kingdom while I haven't seen Clary since she left last night is making me uneasy. I leave Luke behind, approaching the sisters. "Kelly, please don't take this the wrong way, but why the hell are you here?"

"Connie came back," Kelly answers as if it explains everything.

"I see that, but you're here and I haven't seen Clary since last night."

"I wish I could help you, but I can't. She stood me up this morning when we were supposed to go searching."

And finally, I can pinpoint the cause of my uneasiness. The way Clary stopped to look back at me one last time, telling me she loved me. It all makes sense now. Clary didn't leave last night to go see Kelly before they went searching. Clary _left_ last night.

"Oh, God, no," I say, the lump in my throat it hard to speak. "No."

Kelly looks like she already knows what's going on, but nonetheless she asks, "What is it?"

"She lied to me last night. She said she was going to see you before you two left this morning."

"She never came to see me."

"I _know_. Clary took off on her own last night to look for Daryl, and she doesn't think she's gonna make it back."

Connie, who had been watching Kelly sign everything we said, jumps into the conversation. She taps Kelly's arm to get her attention, then signs, pausing here and there to allow Kelly to translate. "Connie says Daryl was getting ready to go to Hilltop," Kelly tells me. "They think there's going to be a fight there and they want to be ready. He was by the gate. She doesn't know if he's still there or not."

"Thank you," I tell Connie before taking off for the gate. When I get there, it's just Ezekiel and Henry. I slow to a stop next to them, questioning, "Where are they? Where's Daryl?"

"You just missed 'em," Henry answers.

"They left a few minutes ago," Ezekiel adds.

"He doesn't know," I say.

"Know what?"

"She's out there. Clary's out there, Ezekiel, on her own. I don't know if she's looking for Daryl or hunting the skins or both, but she's _alone_. And Daryl doesn't know."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

"We were clearing the roads," Ozzy tells us, leading us to the overturned wagon. "Spotted the tracks leading here."

Magna picks up a wooden coin, declaring, "It's from Hilltop."

"Dead didn't do this. People did."

"The skins?" Michonne questions. "You know about them?"

Ozzy nods. "We got the download. Strange times, strange ways to cope. Anyway, that'd be my guess. If anyone else was out here, my patrols would've seen them. Something else. They put up a fight."

"Yeah, there was a struggle," I chime in, pointing to the scuffed dirt. "Someone put up one hell of a fight. Look at all this, all around here. Got some kind of hit in—there's blood." I look around, seeing more of the trails leading deeper into the woods. "Drug 'em out this way."

"Let's go," Kal decides.

"We can't all just go rushing in there."

"They could still be alive," Dianne argues.

Marco says, "But if those skin freaks followed them from Hilltop, the whole community is in danger right now. We'll have to split up."

"Michonne and I can go with Daryl," Carol volunteers. "We'll track 'em. The rest of you, go to Hilltop."

"We'll keep up our patrols around the Kingdom," Ozzy promises. "Just in case. Course, this means you owe us a couple of movies when this is done."

Carol chuckles. "I'm sure I can work that out."

"C'mon," I urge, and we break off. Yumiko joins the three of us a moment later, stealing one last glance back at Magna as the two split up. We keep going into the night, following the trail left behind as the skins dragged our people away. I kneel next to a stick splattered with blood, glancing up at Carol.

"I don't know if there's a happy ending here," she says as I get up, leading us on.

"The trail," I say, pausing. "It goes off in three different ways. Don't make sense." I glance around as twigs snap, knowing now that it's a trap. They're trying to break us apart, waiting in the woods for us. "Come on. Head back. Let's go."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Yumiko rushes, gesturing for me to stop as Carol shines her flashlight on the approaching walkers. "They're from Hilltop."

Yumiko and I each fire, a bolt and arrow sinking into the two walkers' heads. Michonne turns as more growling comes from the other side, warning, "Watch their hands. They could be skins."

We take out the ones surrounding us, and I order, "Back to the road. Come on!"

We turn to go back the way we came, but more walkers are approaching. They're surrounding us, and we all draw our weapons, no choice but to fight. We circle up, backs to each other, walker bodies piling at our feet. The last one falls, and that's when the whispering begins.

"Daryl," Yumiko whispers.

"I see 'em," I reply, drawing my second knife.

Our circle closes in, our backs pressing together, as the skins surround us. They all draw their knives, one aiming a gun at us. From within the shadows, I hear that son of a bitch's voice once more.

"Drop them," Beta orders, his voice a low growl. "I won't ask twice."

We throw our weapons to the ground, knowing that there's no fighting our way out now. "That knife," Yumiko murmurs, staring at a blade on Beta's belt. "I know it."

Beta stops in front of me, growling, "You just had to give me the girl. No one else had to die. Now that deal… is done."

* * *

They tied our hands behind our backs, too many skins around for us to try to make a move to escape. I don't know how much time passes before I see that bald-headed bitch approach, a knife in hand. Alpha slows in front of me, and I growl, "You ain't gettin' her back."

"You think this is about my daughter?" Alpha questions, then shakes her head. "I ran into some trouble on the road. It was unavoidable." So it was her people—the skins were the ones that attacked the wagon. "Do you like my new camp? My people like to keep moving, keep roaming."

"We've granted Lydia asylum," Michonne speaks up. "Any attempt to take her by force will result in retaliation."

"What's your name?" Alpha questions.

"Michonne."

Alpha glances towards me. "Does she speak for you?"

"We speak for each other," I answer.

Alpha nods. "My daughter isn't a concern anymore. She was weak. She never lived up to expectations."

"Was?" I question. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"To be clear…" Alpha unholsters her sawed-off, double-barrel shotgun, pointing it at me. "Your group is in no position to threaten me. That is a habit that needs to be broken. Come with me. Just you."

Great. This shit again. At least no one has been beaten to death in front of me yet.

The sun is up by the time I decide to speak, Alpha untying my hands once she's made it clear that she has the shotgun. I question, "Where are you taking me?"

Alpha simply gestures towards the edge of the cliff, following me up onto the rocks overlooking the ravine as the growls hit me. Below are hundreds, if not thousands, of walkers.

"My people are among them," Alpha tells me. "Steering them. My people make up the horde after their deaths, too. Without their death, their pain, without their sacrifice, we would have nothing. My horde would be nothing. The only reason you and your friends are alive is because I let you live."

"What do you want?" I demand.

"Nothing. You don't got a single thing to offer me. I've seen how you live. I've walked your streets. It's a joke. Your communities are a shrine to a long-dead world. My people, the Whisperers—we live as nature intended."

"That's just all the bullshit you feed your sheep so they'll follow you."

"They follow me 'cause I am the Alpha. And if the Alpha doesn't assert herself, then there's chaos. So that is what I've done."

"What'd you do?"

"Your friends back at the camp are fine. Tell them the next time they cross into my land, my horde will cross into theirs. This will be the way your world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper. A whisper. The land between the broken interstates and the river to the south is mine. I've marked the border to the north. You'll see it as you leave."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Alpha repeats, "You'll see it as you leave. Go. your friends will be waiting for you in a field due north."

I start to turn to leave, but I have to know now. I have to hear it from her. I turn back to Alpha, asking, "Did you kill Lydia?"

Alpha pauses for a moment before she says, "I don't think you can protect my daughter. But I hope I'm wrong."

I tell her, "You are."

* * *

Carol runs to greet me first when I arrive in the field, my crossbow in her hand and my knives on her belt. We embrace, Carol whispering, "I thought she was going to kill you."

"I'm alright," I promise her. We break apart, Carol passing me my weapons before we join Michonne and Yumiko, continuing back to our land. We have to cross through another set of woods, still not at the border that Alpha mentioned. We start up an incline, nearing another clearing, when we can hear muffled shouting.

We all pause, hands on our weapons, looking around. Michonne spots him first, crying, "Siddiq!"

We follow her as she runs for Siddiq, who is gagged and bound to a tree. He's been beaten, his face splattered with blood. She removes his gag, Siddiq whimpering as he frantically scans the surrounding area while Michonne cuts the ties around his wrists. She questions, "What happened?"

Siddiq is only able to point to his right, to the north, as Michonne gets him to his feet. He tries, "I… I…"

He starts to fall, and Michonne catches him. She loops one arm around his waist, putting one of his around her shoulders. I take the lead, Michonne supporting Siddiq as we trek up the hill. His voice shakes every time he tries to speak before falling silent. Ahead of us, a row of pikes line the crest of the hill. And at the top of each pike, a decapitated head rests.

So this is what Alpha meant when she said I'd know the border when I saw it.

As we near, we can better make out who the heads belong to. We can hear the growls, Alpha and her Whisperers killing these people and letting them reanimate, a fate worse than death. I don't recognize the first two, but I do recognize the third head.

DJ, a former Savior who turned his life around within Alexandria's walls.

A redhead follows him. She's one of Negan's former wives, Frankie. She adopted a kid that was left orphaned from the war.

An old woman, her hair wrapped in a headscarf. Her husband had once attacked Maggie, but it's Tammy Rose's head on the pike.

The next two are just children, two of the Hilltop's teenagers. Rodney and Addy.

"Oh God," I whisper, recognizing Enid's head atop the eighth pike. "No."

Michonne and Siddiq both let out sobs. Yumiko falls to her knees, hands covering her mouth. Tears come to my eyes as I come to Tara's head atop a pike. Tara, one of my closest friends, decapitated by the latest enemy.

When I see who's on the next pike, I know I can't let Carol see him, but I fear she already has. "No! No!" I shout, running to Carol. I block her view, hands on her shoulders. "Just look at me. Look at me."

But Carol looks around me nonetheless. She screams, a scream of raw emotion and pain. I turn over my shoulder to look at Henry's head again, but I realize that he's not the last one. He's not the one Carol's screaming for.

"I didn't mean it," I hear Michonne sob. "I didn't mean it!"

"No!" I wail, falling to my knees. I can't block Carol's view anymore, not when no one can stop me from seeing Clary's decapitated head on the end of the row, right next to Henry's. Carol follows me down, wrapping her arms around me and burying her face in my shoulder. I wrap my arm around Carol, holding her as we both wail over the family that the Whisperers took from us.

"Daryl," Carol whispers after a long while. "We can't leave them there, like _that_."

"I'll do it," I volunteer myself. "I'll do it. Stay here."

I get myself to my feet, Yumiko meeting me as I approach the heads of the two men that I don't know. "They saved us," Yumiko tells me. "Ozzy and his group, the Highwaymen. They helped us get to the Kingdom."

Together, we put down the heads of the Highwaymen. We move on down the line, but once we reach Enid, I stop her. "It has to be me," I tell her. "From here to the end, it needs to be me."

"Of course," Yumiko replies, resting her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Daryl."

I give her a nod of thanks, stepping up to Enid's growling head. I can't let myself break yet, not when there's still more to do. I close my eyes, plunging my knife into Enid's head. Yumiko stays close by, gently removing Enid's head from the pike as I move on to Tara's.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, putting my knife into her head. And then it's on to Henry. I was supposed to keep watch over the kid—Carol had trusted me to keep him safe. I feel the weight of my failures as I put the kid down, taking his head off the pike myself.

Carol sobs, and I turn to find her standing behind me, arms extended for Henry's head. She takes it from me, cradling it in her arms.

And then, I'm face to face with my dead sister. _Undead,_ I correct myself as her head growls at me. Sensing my proximity, she snaps at me. "I'm sorry," I sob, reaching towards her. "I'm so sorry, Cheyenne."

Her once grey eyes are clouded over, milky white and following my every movement. Her skin is cold as I brush my fingers along her cheek, stroking alongside a cut that wasn't there the last time I saw her. She fought back, but she lost.

I gently run my fingers through her hair, searching for a suitable spot to plunge my knife. I can't destroy what remains of her like I did when I put down Merle, having driven my knife into his head over and over. I hide the wound in her hair so we don't have to look at it, though we'll all know it's there.

I sob as Clary's growls cease, dead forever now. I take her head off of the pike, dropping my knife as I hold her head close to my chest. I fall to my knees, clutching the head of the one person I _never_ wanted to outlive. I stroke her hair, tears streaming down my cheeks as I mourn my sister, not with a sob or a cry, but a whimper.

* * *

_**~Negan~**_

In all the years that Clary and Aaron would come to Alexandria as ambassadors from Hilltop, it was always Clary that would come and see me. I think I only saw Aaron the one time he came to visit after Clary was nearly killed saving my life. He came to thank me—once they knew that Clary would be okay—for my part in keeping her alive.

It's been nearly eight years since Aaron last came to see me.

Aaron doesn't say anything, just puts the key in the lock and turns it. He pulls the cell door open, holding it open for me to exit. I don't even move from where I sit in the corner by the bookshelf, instead asking, "The hell are you doing?"

"Come with me," he simply replies, not explaining any further.

I shrug, getting to my feet. I'll gladly take any chance to stretch my legs. As I pass him on my way out of the cell, I notice his eyes are red and raw, like he had been crying. _I don't think this is just a walk around Alexandria, _I think to myself. "Where are we going?"

"Daryl said you should be there."

"Daryl's back?" I question, following him through Alexandria. "Clary must be happy about that. She said it's been three years since she saw him. Say, where is my favorite tiger?"

Aaron doesn't respond, and I look around, realizing he's led me to Alexandria's cemetery. A group of people have gathered, but for some reason, I can't bring myself to make a quip about how this is one hell of a place to have a party.

They stand around an open grave, one that was dug next to a grave marked with a C. _Carl's grave_, I think. _Who the hell are they burying next to Carl? Oh God, did something happen to Judith?_

But Judith is there in the crowd, right next to a stone-faced Michonne.

Over the grave, a face I haven't seen in years stands. "Alden?" I question. "Clary told me you were back at Hilltop. What the hell are you doing here?"

Alden spares me a glance, his eyes also red from crying. The boy standing next to him, maybe a year or two younger, Latino with black hair to his shoulders, puts an arm around Alden. I've never seen him before, but I know who he is. "You're Marco," I say, and I see him tense now that I'm speaking to him. "Clary tells me all about you."

At that, the two wrap each other in a hug, Marco's shoulders shaking as he cries. "Okay," I say slowly, then look around, demanding, "Alright, what the hell's going on? Daryl's here, Aaron's crying, and people from Hilltop are here _in Alexandria _doing both. Who the fuck died?"

"Would you like to pay your respects?" a voice asks from behind me.

"Jesus Christ," I exhale, turning to find Gabriel behind me. "Wait. Pay my respects?"

Aaron lets out a sob, hugging Gracie as she wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face in his stomach. _Something is wrong. Something's very wrong._ Aaron doesn't go anywhere without both of his daughters. I scan the crowd for Clary, thinking, _She has to be around here somewhere. If she's not with Aaron, she'd be with her boys, right? So why isn't she with Alden and Marco?_

Instead, I find Daryl sitting on the ground next to the open grave. There's a small casket in front of him, like one that would house an infant.

I step forward, no one moving to stop me. When I look down, I gasp in horror at its contents.

I almost would prefer there to be an infant in the box.

"Oh my God," I breathe. "No. Oh, Clary, no. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Daryl glances towards me as I fall to my knees. "She would've wanted you here. Aaron said you two had a bond." He shakes his head. "Oh, hell, Negan, she told me about why she went to the Sanctuary. She told me what you did for her. So you deserve to be here."

I let out a shaking breath, reaching forward and brushing Clary's hair back, just as I did when we were stuck in the blizzard. This time, my fingers are met with cold skin. "It was a group, a new enemy," Daryl tells me. "The skins."

"I know who they are," I hiss, my fingers curling into a fist. I spin, facing Michonne. "You did this. You killed her."

"It was the skins," Michonne argues. "Not me."

"You could've prevented it!" I exclaim. "I _begged_ you to let me go to Hilltop, to _save her._ You let her die, Michonne." I kneel beside the box once more, but my attention is on Daryl. "She wrote me a letter, said that she didn't think she'd make it out alive. I tried, Daryl. I tried to save her."

"I did, too," he whispers. "I've always tried to save her, and I never did."

"You did—she told me about the times you saved her," I assure him, but he's not listening to me anymore.

"I…" Daryl begins, then takes a breath. He looks down at his sister, speaking to her, stroking her hair. "I never told you, did I? That day, the one before we left to go hunting on that mountain with Will and Jess. I was going to tell you we were finally going to be okay. We were going to get out of that place. _I_ was going to get you out of that place. You could be okay. I could be okay."


	21. 2:17

**XX: 2:17**

_**~Daryl~**_

I sigh softly, leaning back in the chair I've been sitting in for the past four hours. I get to my feet, pacing the small room once more. I glare up at the lights as they flicker yet again, glancing at the time: 2:17. "Damn, I thought it was later," I mutter to myself.

Well, not to myself. But it might as well be.

I turn back to the bed, sadly watching the pale face of the raven-haired sixteen year old that's been in the coma for the past year. Slowly, her chest rises and falls, the machine next to her beeping with her heartbeat. I walk back over, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"I…" I begin, then take a breath. "I never told you, did I? That day, the one before we left to go hunting on that mountain with Will and Jess. I was going to tell you we were finally going to be okay. We were going to get out of that place. _I_ was going to get you out of that place. You could be okay. I could be okay. Then I found you… passed out. Bloody. Beaten. You weren't even breathing. And now we're here. You know, they said you should've died. It's a miracle that you're alive. But is it really? When nothing's changed since that day? When I'm talking to you, but you can't even hear me?" I look away, shaking my head. "I might as well be talking to a hospital bed."

"Daryl," Carol says softly from the doorway. She's been working in the hospital for years, and she watched over Clary when I wasn't here. "It's almost time. Are you sure you want to be here for it?"

"I have to," I say. "She's my baby sister. I can't let her die alone. Not when she'll die because I wasn't there to stop him in the first place."

Carol bows her head, murmuring, "Of course. And Daryl—you can't beat yourself up over it. That bastard did this to her, not you."

Carol leaves the room, allowing me to have just a few minutes more. I don't want to do it. I don't want to lose her, but I think she's already gone. I've known that she's been gone since before the doctor, Negan, mentioned pulling her plug. If she's still suffering, I can't force her to keep going through that. Even if it means losing her forever.

I brush her hair behind her ear, leaning forward and pressing my lips to her forehead. "C'mon, kid, wake up," I whisper. "You got people out here. People that care, people that are waiting to meet you. _Please._ Please, sweetheart, I need a miracle. I _need_ you to wake up. I don't know how to carry on. I can't do this without you."

I feel eyelashes on my cheek, and I freeze when I hear a whispered, "Daryl?"

I slowly pull back, looking down at the grey eyes I haven't seen open in a year. "Oh my god," I say, sobs that I can't stop racking my body. "Clary."

"Daryl," Clary whimpers. I take her in my arms, holding her close, but I think Clary's holding on even tighter than I am, if it's possible. She's shaking, crying as she buries her face in my shoulder. "Daryl, I love you. I'm sorry. I love you."

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," I assure her, wiping her tears when she pulls back to look at me.

She questions, "Daryl, what happened?"

"It was Will," I whisper, pressing my forehead against hers. "They got him, sweetheart. The police, they arrested him. He died in prison a while ago."

"What?" Clary questions, eyes widening. "Will died in prison?"

"He's dead, sweetheart. You're free. _We're _free. We can be okay. We're gonna be okay."

"No, no, that can't be right," Clary says, shaking her head as I sit back. "Will couldn't've been in prison."

"He was, sweetheart," I tell her.

"No, no, that ain't right. The hunting trip, he died. Walkers, Jess shot him."

"Walkers?" I question. "And Jess? Jess, he didn't shoot nobody. Well, actually, he shot a cop when they went to arrest Will, got himself killed."

"No, I swear, it was real," Clary says, shaking her head once more. "You were there. You saw it. You saved me when Uncle Jess turned."

"Clary, honey, I think you dreamt it," I tell her. "I don't know what the hell these 'walkers' you're talkin' 'bout are, I don't know nothin' 'bout Jess 'turning.'"

"What? No, no, it _had_ to be real. I got the scars to prove it. Look!" She pulls aside the gown by her right shoulder, showing bare, unmarred skin. Her face changes to one of confusion when she stares at her shoulder. "What? No, D shot me there. Dwight _shot_ me."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," I rush. "_Dwight?_ How the hell do you know Dwight? I only just met him when I took my bike to the garage. You weren't even awake."

"He's a Savior."

"Yeah, he works at Saviors Auto."

"Daryl, give me your arm," Clary commands. I offer my left arm to her, and she rolls up my sleeve, staring at the inside of my forearm. "No _veritas._" Clary drops my arm, looking up at me. "My whole life has just been flipped, spun around, and flipped again. Everything that I thought I knew, everything that happened to me, it wasn't real." Clary squeezes her eyes shut, lying back on the pillow. "Holy shit, Darry."

I shake my head at Clary, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Christ, kid, you really know how to make an entrance. I'll be right back, okay?"

I start to get up, but Clary grasps my wrist. "Don't leave me, Darry."

"I'm just going to the door, alright?" Clary nods, releasing my wrist. I walk over to the door, leaning out. "Carol. She's awake."

Carol gasps, her hands covering her mouth. I step back to allow her inside, and Clary's eyes widen as she takes in Carol, looking as though she's seen a ghost. I still haven't stopped grinning, and Carol looks over at me, a smile gracing her features. "You did it," she says softly. "You really did."

"I just needed her back," I reply. "She knew."

"Huh," Carol says. "You should smile more often, pookie."

I scoff, shaking my head at her. "Stop."

"You're here," Clary suddenly says, still staring at Carol. "Last I saw you, you were helping Ezekiel with the Fair."

"Ezekiel?" Carol questions. "I don't know who that is, but… last I saw you… awake… you had walked Sophia home."

"Carol," I say, resting my hand on her arm. I gesture for her with my head, and we turn away from Clary, speaking in hushed voices. "Is it… normal for people that come out of comas to be confused?"

"Oh, it's very common," Carol answers. "For some, waking up in a hospital's confusing. It's a reality shock whenever they realize what's actually going on."

"Clary's been trying to distinguish reality from whatever she dreamt while she was in a coma," I explain.

"Coma patients don't actually dream. They have vivid hallucinations that, sometimes, can seem like nightmares." Carol walks over, checking Clary's vitals. "How long has she been awake?"

I glance back towards the clock, only to find that it had stopped at 2:17. "Clock stopped," I note. "But it hasn't been long. Maybe five minutes?"

Carol nods. "Can you give us a few minutes?" she requests.

"Of course," I say. "I need to make some calls, anyway."

I get up, grabbing my phone and exiting Clary's hospital room. I close the door behind me, walking down the hall to the waiting room to make calls in private. I start to dial a number but lower my phone as I watch security escorting a stone-faced Negan down the hall. I turn to one of the nurses watching, a young blonde fresh out of college. "What's going on?"

"They just fired him," Alden answers. "There's been whispers of it happening ever since that malpractice suit with a burn victim. And the other nurses, they have this rumor that he's been going crazy ever since his wife died last year. I always thought that part was just a rumor, I guess 'cause I didn't know him before Lucille died. But maybe he was going crazy. He would've let that girl die."

I swallow, fearing the answer. "What girl?"

He looks over at me, recognizing me now. "Siddiq—er, Dr. Nash—just saw that your sister's been showing a few signs of waking up the past week, but Negan had you consent to let her go anyway. He went straight to the chief physician, got Negan fired. He just saved Clary's life."

"Negan was the only one that knew she might wake up?"

"Yeah, and he did that anyway. What an asshole."

"Good riddance," I growl, and Alden nods his agreement. I step back into the empty waiting room as I dial the first number I think to call. I raise my phone to my ear, closing my eyes as I wait. When my call to the Georgia State Penitentiary is finally answered, I say, "Uh, hi, my name is Daryl Dixon. Can I speak to—"

"I'm already putting you through, Daryl," Jacqui, the receptionist, says. "It'll just be a few moments."

A few minutes later, the hold music ends and a gruff voice says, "I hope you're calling to give me actual news."

"Merle," I say, "she's awake."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

Daryl still wasn't back when Carol left, having determined that I was all good even after being in a coma for a year. Siddiq, still a doctor in this world, popped in, saying that he wanted to keep me another day at least for observation, just in case. A year in an inexplicable coma, he said, could have some side effects.

_A year,_ I think. I had survived in the apocalypse for twelve. My current guess is that every year in there was a month out here. I get up, ignoring my growling stomach as I make my way over to the window. I push the curtains aside, allowing the sunlight in. Outside, I'm greeted with cars on the nearby freeway, pedestrians walking on the sidewalks in town. _Living_ pedestrians. "_Holy shit,_" I breathe. "The world hasn't ended."

I don't look as the door opens, assuming it's either another nurse or Daryl. "Hey, sorry I took so long," Daryl apologizes. "I ran across the street to a store to get you this." I turn as he offers me a journal. "I, uh, I talked to Carol. She said that maybe you should write down what you remember from your coma dream."

"I hope you bought more than just the one," I deadpan, taking the journal and going to sit back in my bed. I pull the table over, taking the pen Daryl offers. I make notes, as writing the whole thing out would take too long. "'Cause a lotta shit happened."

"Well, uh, start at the beginning, I guess," Daryl suggests. "I'm gonna run and get you some clothes, okay? There's some people coming tomorrow that you need to meet."

"Oh yeah?" I question, glancing up from the page as I finish the section on Will's death. "Who?"

"Your, um, your social worker," Daryl says. "He's a really nice guy. He cares about you a lot, actually. We've been talking over some things lately, but you don't need to worry about it right now. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"Be back soon," I request.

"You got it." Daryl pauses by the door. "And I'll bring you some more journals."

I chuckle, shaking my head at him. "Get outta here."

* * *

I have never been so happy to change into actual clothes when Daryl returns that I don't even wait for him to leave to change. "Damn, okay, I'll just look away then," Daryl deadpans.

"Sorry," I tell him, pulling on a shirt. "Just couldn't stand to be in that damn gown anymore."

"It's cool," Daryl says, giving me a thumbs up.

"Okay, you're good," I tell him as I finish pulling on my pants. I'm so proud of him; Daryl brought my favorite sweatpants and one of my Metallica shirts.

"So… I'm gonna order food," Daryl tells me. "You want anything?"

"Can you even do that in a hospital?" I question, taking the menu for the nearby pizza place he offers.

"Well, shit, I sure hope so. It's not like I haven't been doing just that for a year."

"Hey, that was a valid question," I reply. "Stop being mean to me."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Daryl apologizes, kissing my forehead. "I'm just so glad you're back."

"Me, too," I tell him. "Alright. I'm feeling a regular cheese pizza. Simple and basic, yet delicious."

"And without pineapple on," Daryl approves.

"Why do you hate pineapple on pizza so much?" I question. "Hawaiian pizzas are awesome!"

"Fruits do not belong on pizzas!"

"Then explain tomatoes," I retort. "They're a fruit."

"Tomatoes are _not_ a fruit. Fruit does not belong on pizza."

"Whatever," I sigh, fighting a losing battle. "Just order us some damn pizza."

Daryl smirks, placing the call before taking a seat at the end of the bed. "You been writing?" Daryl questions, and I nod. "How far did you get?"

"The farm," I answer. "When…" I trail off, unable to tell my brother that I dreamt he killed someone, even out of mercy. I haven't seen him this happy since before Rick died, and I can't do that to him, tell him things that'll weigh on him in this world. "When we lost Dale. Nearly two months into it."

"Will you tell me?"

"Maybe you should just read it," I tell him. "There, that page is the beginning. The hunting trip, Will, Jess. Sam."

"Oh, I talked to Sam on my way here. He said he'd drop in soon. He's been here just about as much as I have."

Daryl takes the notebook I offer him, not noticing my look of surprise at Sam being alive. I guess it makes sense, everyone that I lost in there actually being alive out here since none of it ever happened.

Daryl reads through it, pausing a few minutes later. "I threw people off of rooftops? Damn, apocalypse me is a badass. Or a psycho serial killer. I haven't figured out which one yet."

"That time wasn't easy," I murmur. "But I had Glenn." I glance over at Daryl just to find him smirking. Then, he glances at his phone and chuckles. "What?"

"Nothing," he says. "Just three… two… one…"

Daryl points to the door just as it bursts open, a messy haired blue-eyed boy skidding to a halt inside. As soon as he sees me, he starts rambling, Spanish mixing with English mixing with tears. I slowly climb out of bed, shaking as I walk towards him. I take his face in my hands, and tears come to my eyes when I feel that he's real. "Sammy," I whisper. "_Estoy aquí. Estoy aquí_." I let out a shaky sigh, hugging him. "_Estás vivo. Dios mío._"

"Of course I'm alive," Sam whispers. "But you? Oh my god, Clary. Oh, I thought I lost you."

"I don't go down that easy," I tell him.

"_Te amo_," Sam whispers, pressing kisses to my cheek as he hugs me tighter. "_Te _amo. I love you and I never want to lose you."

"_Te amo_, Sammy," I reply. "I'm not goin' anywhere. Don't you worry." We pull back just far enough to look at each other. "How are you? How's Seb?"

"I'm so much better now," Sam tells me. "Seb, he's great, still in college. Finally decided on a major. You remember Alex?" I nod. "They're still together. Have been since… well, they were dating before your coma."

"How's Alex?"

"He's good," Sam answers, nodding. "Graduated with his Bachelor's back in May. He and Seb got an apartment together in Atlanta. They're moving back here once Seb graduates."

"No shit, really?" I ask. "C'mon, take a seat. Kemosabe over there ordered pizza."

"I forgot you called me that," Daryl says with a laugh, looking up from my journal for a moment.

Sam takes a seat in the chair by the hospital bed, and for the first time in what feels like twelve years to me, I sit in his lap again. It's what we used to do, piling together into one chair, even when there were other seats available. Most of the time it was Sam sitting on me, but we'd switch it up every now and then. Sam looks up at me as he questions, "Wait, isn't that from _The Lone Ranger_? And doesn't it mean 'wrong brother'?"

"It was an inside joke with Merle," I explain. "I meant to punch Merle one time, accidentally punched Daryl. When I realized I hit Daryl, I was like, 'I'm so sorry, wrong brother.' And Merle just starts dying because fate just so happens that we're watching _Lone Ranger_ right at the kemosabe part, so Merle called Daryl 'kemosabe' and I've been calling him it since."

"Clary," Daryl suddenly whispers.

"Yeah?" I ask, turning to look at him only to find him staring down at the notebook. "Oh, wait, shit. I know where you are." I get up, kneeling in front of him. "Darry, hey, look at me. That didn't actually happen, and it _won't_ happen, alright?"

"I don't want to lose you," Daryl murmurs.

"It's okay, Darry," I tell him. "You won't. You ain't ever gonna lose me. You ain't gonna get rid of me that easy. Here." I take his hand, pressing it over my heart. "You feel that? Feel my heartbeat? My heart's still beating."

I suddenly look away from Daryl at my echoing of Aaron's words, and he questions, "You alright?"

"No," I answer, shaking my head. "These, uh, these two guys, they took me in. They… they were my dads, and then I lost one in the war. But… we had this thing. 'Hearts still beating.' And now, I don't even know if they're real. But if they are, they don't know me. Not like they used to."

"We'll figure it out, I promise. You make a list of who you came in contact with, and we'll figure it out."

I nod, releasing his hand and getting to my feet as the pizza boy walks through the open door. "Wow, you got company, Daryl," Glenn says.

_Glenn._

"Holy shit," I say, turning to face my brother. "Glenn."

"Oh, my god! You're awake!" Glenn exclaims. "Daryl told me all about you!"

"Oh, _he's_ the Glenn," Daryl says, putting it together after glancing at the journal.

"That's me," Glenn says, though he's clearly confused. "I'm the Glenn?"

"Just read this," I tell him, grabbing the journal and handing it to him after taking the pizza. "You'll understand."

So I watch as Glenn reads it, eyes widening as he gets to the part where he comes into the story. "Holy shit."

"Keep going, Short Round." And then, I freeze again. I hadn't spoken those words since that night we met Negan. "Short Round."

"Yeah, you seem to be fond of calling me that," Glenn says with a chuckle.

I suddenly wrap Glenn in a hug, telling him, "I missed you."

* * *

"Why so nervous?" Daryl questions, elbowing me as he glances down at me. "It'll be fine. I'm telling you, you're gonna like this guy."

"It's not that," I tell him. "It's just… I've been thinkin' 'bout the guys that took me in, that whole group. I mean, I've found a couple—Glenn, Carol, Alden, Siddiq. But the others... I gotta find 'em."

"We will," Daryl promises. A knock sounds on the door, and Daryl gets up. "That must be him."

He steps forward, opening the door. I get to my feet, turning to put the list of people I have to find down on the table with my journal as my social worker enters. "Clary, hi," he says, and I don't even have time to process his voice as I turn to shake his hand. "My name's Aaron Raleigh."

His hand grasps mine, and I freeze, staring up into his face. Into those familiar blue eyes, the curls and the beard, the gentle smile. The heart that's still beating. I glance down at our hands, finding a ring on his left. _He never lost his arm. He married Eric, too._ I look back up at him, and I can't help but smile because I found him.

"Hi," I say, blinking back tears. "I'm so glad to finally meet you."

"You alright?" Aaron questions, picking up on the thickness of my voice. "You seem a little shaken."

"I'm perfect," I tell him, and I can't stop smiling now. "You don't even _know_ how perfect everything is."

"Alright, good," Aaron says, nodding. He drops my hand, putting his briefcase on the table as Daryl steps closer to me. He leans down, whispering, "You know him?"

I turn my head to look up at Daryl, whispering in reply, "He and Eric were the ones that took me in."

Daryl doesn't respond, instead wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Daryl and I sit beside each other on the bed, facing Aaron, and he shares a look with Daryl before looking at me "So… we, uh, we should probably get to know each other a little first."

"No," I say. "I already know you, and I know Daryl told you about me."

"Alright, so we'll get right into it," Aaron says. "Clary, we've got a couple options here. I'm gonna throw this one out first, even though I know you'll object. Foster care."

"Not happening," I argue.

"Alright, didn't think so," Aaron says with a nod. "Option number two. Because Daryl is an adult, he can be your legal guardian. It'd just take some paperwork, and then you'd be living with him until you're at least eighteen." I nod, listening. "And option number three. Now, here's one that I normally wouldn't propose to someone your age. When people adopt, they go for younger kids. Once they're teenagers, the chances of getting adopted go down. Especially someone that'll be sixteen next month."

"So… basically, I only have one option," I say.

"Not necessarily," Aaron replies. "I… I know this is really sudden and it's a lot to spring on you, but I know of a couple that would be ready and willing to adopt you." I bite my lip, praying to any and every god that it's who I think it is. "I know we don't really know each other, aside from what Daryl has told us, but… oh, jeez, I don't know how to say this."

"Just spit it out."

"My husband and I are looking to adopt someone and I told him about you. But this is your choice, Clary."

It takes me a moment to process his words, and then I look to Daryl, questioning, "Is this what you meant when you said you two were talking things over?" Daryl nods, and I turn back to Aaron. "You up for a story?"

"Yeah, sure," Aaron says after a moment.

"While I was in my coma, I spent the entire time dreaming. Well, technically hallucinating, but you know what I'm trying to say. Thing is, it wasn't a dream; it was a nightmare. The dead walked the earth, and I was part of a group of people that were brought into a place called Alexandria. We were brought in by these two guys, and Daryl made one of them promise that if anything happened, they were to take care of me. Fast forward three months, and something happens. We met this man called Negan, this asshole with a bat that killed two of our friends. And he took Daryl as his prisoner.

"So these two guys, they took me in. Just as Daryl made 'em promise. They were the people that I was closest to, aside from this guy named Paul, a kid in a cowboy hat, and a pretty blonde I called Point Break. And so we became this little family, up until we went to war with Negan. And I lost one of my dads. And Eric, he made me promise to stay alive for… for Aaron, damn any and every consequence. And now, you're asking me to come live with you, come be a part of your family?" Aaron nods. "Well, I only have one thing to say. Why the hell didn't you open with that?"

* * *

"Clary, this morning, what you said," Daryl says softly, chewing on his thumb as he sits in the chair next to my bed. "About the war. And that man."

"Negan," I say, glancing up from where I pack my clothes and the notebooks Daryl got me into a bag.

"He's real," Daryl whispers.

I freeze. "What did you just say?"

"Negan… he's real. He's this asshole doctor that got transferred here about two months after Will beat you. He tried to talk me into pulling your plug." Daryl bows his head. "I… I gave in, 'cause I couldn't let you suffer anymore. That was the same day you woke up."

"He still work here?" I question, sliding into the chair next to him.

"No," Daryl tells me, shaking his head. "They fired him for malpractice with a burn victim, and the whole thing with you, 'cause he knew there was still a chance you'd wake up."

I raise an eyebrow, unable to be surprised given Negan's history with irons. "But I… I don't get it. Why did Negan try to kill _me?_ He protected me. He wanted me to join him. I mean, yeah, he threatened us, but he was _never_ going to kill me. He even told me that himself—that he could _never_ hurt me."

"Maybe he's not the Negan that you knew," Daryl offers. "I mean, the others you talked about. Alden was a Savior that went to college for architecture, but he's a nurse out here. Dwight's a mechanic, and I can guarantee you he never shot either of us. Look, Clars, the war is what we need to talk about. It sounds like it messed you up pretty badly."

"It did, at first," I tell him. "I had nine years to cope, but even with Alden helping me… I lost Glenn, Daryl. I always promised him I'd never let anything happen to him, and then I was covered in his blood. I was forced to watch Abraham be brutally murdered for no reason. You were taken and tortured. Aaron nearly died more than a couple times, including when he lost his arm—though that was actually after the war. Sasha offed herself. And then… Eric was killed. And C—" I cut myself off, unable to speak of him. "I lost someone I love, after all that he had been through, a goddamn walker bite is what took him from me."

"What was his name?" Daryl questions.

"I… I can't, Daryl," I whisper. "It still hurts too much. Even after I fell in love with someone else years after he was gone, the memory remained. Our love was God, and then Death came. Because in the end, Death comes for us all, even God."

"Hey, you know what?" Daryl says softly, moving to sit on my bed so he can face me. "None of that happened. Eric and Glenn are alive, so are Abraham and Sasha. And your boyfriend, he's somewhere. We'll find him. We'll find them all."

I smile softly, but I can't just move past it that easily. They all might be alive, but that doesn't mean that I didn't see them die. That I didn't watch them take their final breath, hold them, kill them. That doesn't stop the pain I felt from being real. It still hurt, even nine years later.

"Hey, chin up," Daryl tells me, kissing my forehead. "It's over. Aaron and Eric are coming by tomorrow to get your stuff. Everything's gonna turn out the way it's supposed to be."

There's a knock on the door, and Daryl gets up to answer it. "Oh, speak of the devil," Daryl says, opening the door as I get to my feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the area, thought I'd drop in and actually introduce myself," Eric says, stepping inside.

I freeze as the redhead enters, whispering, "Eric?"

"Hi," Eric says, offering me the warm smile that I haven't seen since he died at the Saviors' hands. I start over, and he has to take a step back as I suddenly wrap him in a hug. Eric chuckles, not having expected it. "Hi, Clary. I'm Eric Raleigh, but you already know that, I guess."

I pull back for just a moment, staring up at him. "You're here." I glance away before looking back at him. "I'm sorry. Aaron told you 'bout my, um…"

"He told me," Eric replies. "But you don't need to worry. Nothing like that is ever gonna happen, not for real."

"I know," I say. "It's just…" My eyes drift down to his abdomen, landing on the place where he was shot. I close my eyes, steadying my breathing before looking back up at him. "It felt real, ya know? I felt _all _of it. Every second, every shot, every hit, every loss."

"Was it here?" Eric questions, having caught on that I kept looking at his stomach. "How I… how I died?" I quickly nod. "Hey, it's okay. Here, look." Eric lifts the bottom of his shirt, showing me his bare stomach. "See? No blood, no wound."

"No gunshot," I add as Eric pulls his shirt back down. "I'm sorry. I know I sound crazy, and I know none of that was real, but it just…"

"It's like those dreams that seem so real you think you're awake, and then when you wake up, you have to try to remember if it actually happened," Eric supplies.

"Yes!" I exclaim. "Thank you! That's _exactly_ it!"

Daryl chuckles, saying, "I'll let you two get to know each other. Clars, I'm gonna go check you out, alright?"

I give him a thumbs up, turning back to Eric as Daryl leaves. I sigh softly, leaning back against the wall. "I really missed you, Dad." My eyes widen as I realize what I just said. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. That's probably really awkward 'cause this is the first time we really met."

"It's okay," Eric tells me with a soft smile. He holds out an arm, and I immediately wrap my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest. "We're gonna be okay, sweetheart. Things are going to turn out the way they were always supposed to."

* * *

_**~Carl~**_

I sigh softly as I look at the time on my phone, stomach growling as I realize I haven't eaten all day, and it's nearly six. I look down as I receive a text:

_Shane and I are going for dinner, taking Judith with us. Will you be alright on your own?_

I quickly text my mom back, assuring her that I'll be alright. I get to my feet, looking down at my dad. A year has passed, and he's still in a coma from the damn gunshot wound. "I'll be back tomorrow," I promise him. "I love you, Dad."

I turn, searching my pockets for my keys as I exit his room in the hospital. I pass by the one room I had been in on occasion, talking to the family of the other coma patient, not looking inside. I lift my head as I find my keys, catching sight of Daryl down the hall as he walks next to a redheaded man. He glances towards someone on his other side, and I follow his gaze to see the same person that I had seen unconscious for a year. I'd recognize her anywhere. We lock eyes, and I finally see what color hers are.

They're grey.

I always thought they'd be the same blue as her brother's.

I whisper, "Oh, my god."

"Carl," Clary breathes. She suddenly takes off, and I stumble back as she wraps her arms around me before hugging her back. After a few moments, we pull back, just staring at each other. After a long few minutes, Clary says, "Your eyes."

"Your voice," I respond, as it sounded the exact same as I expected it to.

"It's you," Clary murmurs, eyes flicking down to my lips.

"I've been waiting a year for this," I say, then kiss her. Clary immediately kisses me back, her lips moving in perfect synchronization with mine, as if she's kissed me a thousand times before. When we break apart, it's only to take a breath. "So, even though we just officially met, like, a minute ago, is it too soon to ask you out on a date?"

Clary laughs, shaking her head. "Where are you taking me?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out," I reply, pressing a quick kiss to her nose. I look over her shoulder at Daryl, who had taken a few steps closer. "Hey, Daryl. I'm stealing your sister."

"You've got my blessing, kid," Daryl says, raising a hand in surrender. "But I think it's up to Eric."

"Whoa, hey, I just adopted her today," Eric says, shaking his head. "Daryl's still got blessing privileges right now."

Clary chuckles, leaning into me as she turns to face her brother and adopted father. I reach forward, shaking Eric's hand, saying, "I'm Carl Grimes. It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Eric Raleigh," he says. "You don't need to be formal." Eric gives Clary a grin. "Hey, remember what I told you. Things are going to turn out the way they're supposed to."

"C'mon," I say, taking Clary's hand. "You hungry?"

"I'm _starving,_" Clary replies. Daryl and Eric stay behind, talking to Carol, as Clary and I get in the elevator. She looks up at the speakers, smiling softly as if she recognizes the jazz music playing. Clary turns, taking my hands as she sways to the music, softly singing.

"_Kiss me once, then kiss me twice  
Then kiss me once again  
It's been a long, long time  
Haven't felt like this, my dear  
Since I can't remember when  
It's been a long, long time"_

I spin her, then rest my hands on her hips and pull her closer. Clary wraps her arms around my neck, smirking. "So… a year, huh?"

I shake my head at her, laughing, "Shut up."

"Make me," Clary challenges.

"Oh, I'll make you," I reply. I lean forward, kissing her once, then twice, then once again.

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

"Well, damn, you cleaned up the place," I say as soon as I walk inside the place that used to be Will's house, Daryl's now that Will is dead. "I'm impressed. I never thought this place would be free of burnt carpet and beer bottles."

"Yeah, I renovated everything the second it was in my name," Daryl replies.

"So, what're we watching?" I question, dropping down on the couch beside him.

"Oh, just the game," Daryl says, gesturing to the basketball game on the television. "First one of the season. Hawks and Grizzlies. It's almost over, though."

"Dammit." The game finished, the Grizzlies winning, just like Daryl predicted they would. Judging from the scores, it was close the entire game, giving Daryl and I hope that the Hawks could win, but the Grizzlies made a couple winning shots right at the end. The camera cuts to an interview with a player on the Grizzlies, but I don't need the name card to tell me who it is.

I recognize that voice, those golden teeth.

"Daryl, that's him," I whisper, grabbing my brother's arm. "That's him."

Daryl looks over at me. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I tear my eyes away from the player, looking to Daryl. "That's Beta."

Daryl glances at Beta before back at me. "That's the guy that killed you?"

"With the dagger Alden gave me to keep myself safe. He killed me just like they killed Jesus. All I remember is one minute I was fighting him in the woods, and the next I heard your voice, begging me to wake up. I thought he just knocked me out at first. Then I realized he killed me."

"And that's how you ended up back here." I nod, and Daryl switches the game off, fully turning to face me. "Don't even think about him."

"Daryl, that's the guy that _killed_ me. How can I _not_ think about him?"

"It was in there. He can't hurt you out here. No one can, not anymore. C'mon, let's take your mind off it. Tell me about your date."

I nod. I can do that, I can talk about Carl. Carl, who's real, who's alive. It doesn't matter that Beta's real, not when everyone else that I've lost is still here.

"Do you remember when I said there was someone I lost?" I question. "Someone that I loved?"

Daryl's eyes widen as it dawns on him, asking, "It was him?"

"It was Carl," I say. "It's _always_ been Carl. Even when I was with Alden, there was… there was a part of my heart that belonged to Carl. Even when I was with Alden, I knew I would never love him the way I love Carl. The way I still love Carl, the Carl that I found again in this world. I don't often believe in fate, but she made Carl and I for each other. Our love is God. Carl will _always_ be the one I love, and I will _not _lose him again."


	22. Mens Rea

**XXI: Mens Rea**

_**~Clary~**_

"Carl! Look out!" I cry, raising my rifle to my eye and firing on the enemy before they have a chance to take a shot at Carl. He rolls away from the line of fire, taking cover beside me. I shout, "Jesse! I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Yo, what the hell?!" Jesse shouts back. "That wasn't me!"

"Then who the hell was it?"

"That bitch!" Jesse shouts, firing at Benjamin.

"Come at me, bro!" Benjamin shouts in reply, starting one of the pointless arguments the two can usually be seen having. He mocks, "Look at me, I'm Jesse! Bitch!"

"Oh, well, I'm Benjamin and I'm the dungeon master of my LARP group at my college 'cause I'm a _fucking nerd! _Take that, bitch!"

"That's not even right!"

"They're so fucking stupid," I sigh to myself.

"Where the hell is Glenn?!" Carl exclaims.

"You got me! Short Round!"

"Over here!" comes his reply.

I glance over at Carl, and he nods once. "You could easily kick everyone's ass, on your own," Carl says. "Your plan. What're we doing?"

"You run for Glenn, I lay down cover fire," I say. "Ready? Go!"

I spin on my heel, firing towards Benjamin as Carl takes off. I make my way after him, taking cover with Glenn and Carl. We would've had four on our team had Jesus not claimed that his latest profile for Albany PD was more important than paintball. "Ben, Seb, and Alex are kicking ass," Glenn says. "Sam's team's half out. Enid and Jesse are still in."

"Damn, Sebby has no mercy on his brother," I state.

"Babe, you shot Sophia," Carl deadpans.

"Fair point," I give in, then push Carl down right before blue paint splatters on the wall. I line up Enid in my sights, pulling the trigger. Green splatters against her chest, and I report, "Enid's out." I glance towards the paint on the wall. "Oh, of course Jesse's team has blue. I'm gonna get him one of those 'kiss the cook' aprons, 'cause I don't think he could be any more obvious. Maybe play some 'Crystal Blue Persuasion' or 'Crystal Ship' while I'm at it."

_He's supposed to be laying low, _I think, my rant becoming internal as I really don't need Carl to be hearing about who Jesse really is right now. _But no! The dumbass is still cooking here and there. I'm a dumbass 'cause I dealt for him once. Oh, and he's still using his first fucking name! He only changed his last name! The cops are still after him! I can't deal with his dumbassery on a good day._

"What does that even mean?" Carl asks. "And where the hell is Jesse?!"

"Glenn, get ready. Follow his voice," I command, then shout, "Yo, Jess! Magnets!"

"Yeah, bitch! Magnets!" Jesse shouts in reply, his voice coming from the forest to our right. Glenn fires at him through the trees, and I hear Jesse shout, "Son of a bitch! Fuck you, Dix!"

"Alright, nice job, Short Round."

"_Magnets?"_ Carl asks, incredulous.

"Long story short, Jesse loves magnets and it's been our running joke for a while," I explain. "Alright, boys, now it's just us and orange."

"So let's kick their asses," Glenn says, and I start to get up. "Hey! We need a plan!"

"I have a plan, Short Round," I reply. "Attack."

So I charge into battle, Carl and Glenn following behind me. I duck and roll and they start firing on us, coming up and returning fire. Carl joins me, but Glenn has joined the fallen, orange splattered all over his chest. "It's just you and me now," Carl says.

"Just like the old times," I say without thinking, then pause. "Well, my old times, anyway. Ready?"

"Wait, why did they stop shooting?" Carl questions.

"Shit," I whisper. "Alright, there's two ways this can go. Either they're hiding and waiting, or they're surrounding us as we speak."

"What about surrendering?"

I give him a look. "It's never that easy, Cowboy."

I catch movement in the bushes out of the corner of my eyes, but Carl sees it, too. He hisses, "Down. Now!"

I duck down as Carl fires in the bushes, and we hear a yelp. Carl and I take off, but we're cut off as we trap ourselves in a clearing. Sebastian emerges from the woods first, followed by Alex (with a mark of green on his arm) and Benjamin. They surround us, circling, foolishly thinking that they have us cornered. Carl and I go back to back, and I whisper to him, "It's alright. I've been in this situation before. Do you trust me?"

"You know what you're doing," Carl replies. "Of course."

"Okay. On the count of three, you're gonna hit the deck. And… three!"

I take the other team by surprise, and Carl gets down. I fire at the orange team; Benjamin goes down first, followed by Alex. Sebastian aims his paintball gun at Carl, ordering, "Drop it! Or I shoot!"

"Okay, okay," I say, my heart pounding at the sight of a gun on Carl, even though I know it won't hurt him. Too many bad experiences, however, and my hands are shaking slightly as I slowly put my rifle down. "Okay, whatever you want. Just don't hurt him."

"Sebastian!" Carl hisses after glancing towards me, a certain urgency in his voice.

"Oh, shit!" Sebastian says, quickly taking his gun off of Carl. "Clary, I didn't—"

He's cut off as I quickly grab a gun and fire, Sebastian's once black helmet now covered with green. I hold my rifle with one hand, offering Carl my other. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet after he grabs his paintball gun. I walk over, standing over the eldest Widmore with my gun aimed down at him. Sebastian raises his hands, rushing, "Clary, Clary, it's me."

"_Nobody_ threatens him," I say, still protective as ever over Carl, despite the fact that I'm not in the apocalypse world anymore.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Sebastian says. "I didn't even think about it."

Carl rests his hand on my arm, softly saying, "Babe, it's okay. _I'm_ okay."

It's only when Carl assures me that he's okay do I lower my gun. I pull Sebastian to his feet. "Sorry."

"Don't," Sebastian replies. "That was on me. I should've known. Sorry. We good?" I give a nod. "What now?"

"Hit the arcade? Laser tag?" I suggest.

"Only if I get you this time," Sebastian replies.

"Yo, I called Dix for the next game," Jesse argues, slinging his arm around my shoulders. "We're gonna kick ass and take names. Just like we used to, huh?"

"Nope, no way," Benjamin replies. "She is _intense!_ She's got the aim. Christ, Seb, look at you! She shot you in the head! I'm not crossing her in any shooting game."

"Well, Bitchamin, in your defense, you could easily beat me at a shooting videogame," I return. "Anything that involves real life targets, however… Let's just say that the only chance you'll have to beat me is if you're Deadshot."

"Ah, my girlfriend is hot, a badass, and a nerd," Carl sighs in content. "I love my life."

"Don't forget, I ride a motorcycle," I add.

"That was included in the badass," Carl tells me.

"Ugh, get a room," Alex teases as he takes Sebastian's hand.

"Ugh, get a closet," I retort, winking at them. Sebastian turns, firing a single shot into my chest. "Ah! Sebastian! You little shit!"

Sebastian laughs, then sees the look on my face. "Hey, Seb, you might want to run," Alex says.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Sebastian quickly replies before taking off. I take off after him, pushing around Sophia and Enid after Sebastian tries to hide behind them. I chase him the whole way back to the building, but I land a shot on his back before he can get away from me. Sebastian turns, hands raised. "I'm sorry," he says, slowly backing away from me. "Please don't shoot me again."

"Only if you promise not to shoot me," I say, still aiming my paintball gun at him.

"Done," Sebastian promises. I lower my gun, following him into the office building. We all return our gear, then grab our stuff from the lockers. "Jeez, what did my mom want?" Carl questions, looking down at his phone. "Three missed calls?"

"Lori called me, too," I say. "You might want to call her back."

"Yeah. I'll meet you guys outside, okay?"

We all nod, heading out while Carl remains with the lockers to call his mother. A few minutes later, he emerges, clutching his phone and his eyes wide. "Carl?" I question. "Hey, you okay? What's going on?"

"He woke up," Carl whispers.

"What?"

"He woke up," Carl repeats, grabbing my hands. "My dad woke up! I told my mom I'd be there right away!"

"You want to take my car?" Sam inquires.

"Nah, I drive faster," I say, stopping Sam before he can hand over his keys. I take out my keys, zipping up my jacket. "You better hold on tight, Cowboy."

"Let's go!" Carl exclaims, taking off for where I parked my motorcycle (which Jesse, who is still making bank selling Blue Sky, insisted on buying for me to celebrate the end of my coma).

I pause before following him, glancing back at everyone. "We'll keep you guys in the loop, okay?"

"Be careful," Glenn tells me. "Drive safe."

I nod, then take off to join Carl. He's already waiting on my bike, and I climb on, starting it up. The engine roars to life, and we tear out of the parking lot. I pass cars in a not exactly lawful way, heading towards the hospital. I drop Carl off at the door, then go find a parking stall. When I do, I quickly pull in before running to the door. I take the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. My heart begins to pound at the thought of actually seeing Rick, the real Rick.

I find Rick's room with ease, and Carl turns when he sees me in the door. "Hey," he says softly, meeting me in the doorway and pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "He's a little disoriented, but he'll be alright. I'm glad you're here."

"No problem," I reply, squeezing his hand.

"C'mon." Carl pulls me inside the room, gesturing to me as he says, "Dad, this is my girlfriend, C—"

"Clary," Rick breathes, eyes widening.

"Rick," I say, and there's something in his voice, something that I recognize.

"You—you're—you're alive," he stammers, and then I realize what I recognize. The way he's speaking now is the same way I was when I first woke up. "I—I—I hoped you got away, but I wasn't sure."

_Did he… no, it isn't possible. He survived the bridge? But where was he?_

My hand goes to the place I wore Rick's Colt Python for years after I thought he died. I can still feel its phantom weight. I swallow before saying, "Rick, what did you… that day, what did you say to me?"

"Same thing you and Glenn said to me," Rick replies. "'Good luck, dumbass.'"

I spent eight years thinking that I watched Rick Grimes die. I spent eight years wondering if my final revelation, my final act of espionage against him, made him blow up the bridge. I spent eight years wondering it Rick's final thoughts were something along the lines of if I wanted him dead, then who else had conspired against him? I spent eight years carrying the weight that I couldn't save Rick Grimes, but he was alive the entire time. And _he _outlived _me_.

"I have to go," I whisper, backing towards the door. "I have to get out of here."

I take off out the door, and I hear footsteps running after me a moment later. I duck into the room with the vending machines, putting my head in my hands. Carl calls after me, "Clary!"

He slows to a stop as he catches up, taking my hands in his. "Clary, baby, look at me."

"Carl, that's the man I knew," I rush, shaking. "The one that… Negan… the dive bar… the bridge… I… I need Daryl."

"Are you okay to drive? Or should I call Daryl to come get you? Do you want me to call Jesse or one of the others to take you home? Alden's working tonight. Do you want me to go find him?"

"No, it'll be faster if I go," I say. "I'm sorry, Carl." I press a quick kiss to his lips. "I gotta go."

"Be safe," Carl tells me, but I hardly hear him, already running for the exit. I rush into the parking lot, fumbling with my keys before I manage to start the engine. I tear out of the parking lot, winding down the familiar roads at least fifteen miles above the speed limit. I screech to a stop in front of Daryl's house, spotting his truck in the driveway. I quickly climb off, barely stopping to grab my keys as I rush inside. "Daryl!" I exclaim. "Daryl!"

"Hey, hey! What's going on?!" Daryl rushes as I slide into the kitchen, putting down the spoon he was using to stir venison stew. "Clary?!"

"It's _Rick_," I manage, breathless as Daryl grasps my arms, holding me still. "He's one that I knew. Somehow, we both went through the same thing." I can feel hot tears on my cheeks, and Daryl looks at me for a moment before pulling me against his chest while I let out a sob. "It's him. It's still him. He's the man that I asked Negan to kill because I was terrified he was gonna hurt me."

"I won't let him hurt you, sweetheart," Daryl murmurs. "He can't do anything to you, not in this world." Daryl pulls away just far enough to look down at me. "We'll be okay. You know I've always got your back, no matter what it is."

"The Rick that disappeared on the bridge, the Rick that just woke up, he's not the same Rick that I knew at the beginning of the apocalypse. He's not the Rick that _anyone _knows."

"He changed?" Daryl questions.

"Rick went to a place that's hard to come back from. We both did. Alexandria brought us back, just a bit. Then, after Carl, Rick… he was too far gone. He went to a place that there was _no_ coming back from. He did things that made _Negan_ look like a goddamn fairy tale." I take a shaking breath. "I'm so scared, Daryl. Rick kept drifting further and further, past the point of no return. I started to go, too. Aaron and Eric kept me grounded, kept me from becoming Negan. And then when I lost Eric, lost Carl, I was done. That night, the attack at Hilltop, I fought, but after it, I couldn't fight anymore. I didn't kill until Alden was in danger, until Judith was in danger, and then I was done, up until _they_ killed Paul." I tuck myself into Daryl's chest, my head under his chin. "My dads, they kept me from going too far. Rick didn't have that. He went darker and darker and darker until he was past the point of no return. I asked Negan to kill him. And Negan lost."

"I'm getting your dads," Daryl decides. He never releases me, keeping one arm around me as he calls them. "Hey, yeah, Aaron, it's me... Yeah, she's here… You need to get here, now."

* * *

_**~Daryl~**_

I pause from where I sit running my hand through Clary's hair, looking out the window as a vehicle pulls into the driveway. "I'll be right back, sweetheart," I murmur. "Your dads are here."

Clary remains on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest as I get up to meet Aaron and Eric. I open the door for them as they reach the porch, telling them, "C'mon in."

Aaron and Eric walk inside, Eric kneeling in front of Clary as Aaron takes a seat on the couch beside her. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, Eric softly saying, "What's going on, sweetheart?"

"Rick… he was _alive_ the entire time," Clary says. "I spent seven years thinking that his death was on me. I always thought it'd be Rick that'd kill me." Clary curls up against Aaron, and Eric moves up onto the couch next to her. "He knows what I did, Dad."

"Oh, god, Cheyenne," Aaron says, holding her to his chest. "There's no way in hell Rick could even touch you in this world."

Eric glances at me when I sit down next to him, asking, "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I've never… I've never seen her this scared, and…"

"Yeah," Eric says, understanding what I was implying; after all that we had been through, it was Rick Grimes that has her so terrified. Eric rubs gentle circles on Clary's back, and she closes her eyes as she leans into Aaron. There's a knock on the door, and I get to my feet, leaving my sister with her fathers.

I open the door to find Alden on the other side of the door, still wearing his scrubs. His hands are in pockets, his head bowed and eyes closed. Marco, also in scrubs, stands beside him, his arms crossed. "Marco, Alden, what are you doing here?" I ask.

"Marc saw Clary running out of the hospital like a bat out of hell," Alden explains, looking up. "Carl found me, gave me an update. He asked me to bring him. We ran into Marco on the way out."

"I was worried about her," Marco adds. "Can I go in?"

"Her dads are with her," I tell him, stepping aside to let Marco pass. As I do so, I glance over Alden's shoulder, finding Carl sitting in the passenger seat of his car, parked along the curb. Alden says, "Carl, he asked me to come up first to make sure that you wouldn't send him away."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Let's find out."

Alden waves Carl up, and the kid damn near trips over his own feet as he rushes to join us on the porch. Carl wrings his hands as he reaches us, whispering, "I don't know if she wants me here or not, but tell me if she's okay."

"She's not," I say. "Kid, what happened in there…"

"I know what she went through," Carl returns. "I _know_, Daryl. He turned into someone he's not and she thought he was gonna kill her. Look, I'm not my dad. I would _never_ hurt her. And if it came down to it, if I had to choose between them, I'd choose her in a heartbeat. I love her."

I pause for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Carl to enter. I step outside with Alden, closing the door behind me. Alden glances up at me, asking, "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"I don't know," I answer. "I mean, you know what she dreamt, Alden."

He did. Clary had confided in him about what she went through, and I knew she told him more than she told me. Alden was in her confidant in that other world; the two knew everything about each other—good, bad, and ugly. Clary had trusted him enough in that other world that she extended the same trust to Alden here.

"And I know what she saw," Alden adds, slowly nodding. "I understand what she's going through, but I just can't even _imagine_ how she feels." Alden bows his head again. "I don't know what I'd do if she isn't okay after this."

Alden starts to turn away, heading back down the pathway to his car. I call after him, "Alden, hold on!" He pauses, turning back to look at me. "Why don't you come inside? Make sure she's okay yourself."

* * *

_**~Clary~**_

I stay curled into Aaron's chest when Daryl disappears outside, closing the door behind him. "Where's he going?" Eric asks.

Aaron shrugs, and I lift my head as Marco enters. "I saw you running out of the hospital," Marco explains before I can ask.

"Rick woke up," I tell him. "He was the Rick I knew."

Marco opens his arms, and I get to my feet, stepping into Marco's waiting arms. He squeezes me tight, worried as always about his friends. "We're here, Clars," Marco murmurs. "Anyone wants to get to you, they have to go through us first."

"Thank you," I tell him, taking a small step back to look up at him. "Thank you, Marco."

Marco nods, giving me a small smile, as the door opens again, Carl stepping inside. Aaron says, "That's where."

"Carl," I whisper. I rush to meet him, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his shoulder. "Oh, God, Carl, I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Carl slowly replies, the first we've said it in this world, returning my embrace. In his arms, I remember our final embrace as though it was only moments ago, rather than years. I never forgot about him, never stopped loving him, even when I loved—

"Alden!" I exclaim, seeing him enter next, Daryl behind him. I pull away from Carl, running to meet the blonde. I knock the wind out of both of us as I slam into his chest, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing tightly.

"Hey, hey, I'm here," Alden replies softly, combing a hand through my hair as he hugs me. "It's okay. We're okay. We're okay, Clary. It's a different world."

"But it's _him_," I whisper. "Al, that's the Rick I _knew_. The Rick that did those… those terrible things I told you about! Alden, what if that was real? What if all of this is just the dream?"

"Listen to me, Clary," Alden says, pulling back to look at me. "Listen. We are going to be okay in this world. What you lived through, it's over. It's in the past. It never happened in this world."

"Al, I… I can't just forget it all. I can't."

I find myself remembering things that I wanted to forget, things that I thought I left behind in the apocalypse world. I feel like I'm in it again.

"Carl," I whisper, reaching behind me for his hand.

"I'm here, babe," Carl says, taking my hand and pulling me into his arms.

But no matter what I do, I can't escape.

I spin away from Carl when I hear a gunshot outside, pushing him behind me. "Oh, god," I whisper.

"What the hell was that?" Aaron questions, shooting to his feet. Eric follows him up, taking his hand, at the second shot.

"Gunshots," I answer. "Down the street. Probably at the corner."

"Someone could be hurt," Marco says as he starts towards the door.

I rush after him, separating him from the door as I cry, "No!"

"Clary—"

"Marco, we may live in Georgia, but there ain't gunshots for no reason," I say, flinching as more shots follow. "You go out there, you're gonna die. I can't let that happen." I take a breath. "If anyone goes out, I will."

"Not alone, you're not," Daryl says. He disappears into his room, emerging a moment later with his crossbow on his back and mine in his hands. "Let's go."

"Stay close to me, alright? We gotta grab Sammy."

"Seb and Alex?"

"They were heading back to Atlanta after paintball."

Daryl hands me my crossbow, and I lead the way out the door. Down the street, by the flickering street light, a group of people kneel around something that looks way too similar to a body for my liking. Three other people walk towards them.

But I recognize that gait, that stumbling walk. I can hear the low growls.

Daryl asks, "The hell are they doing?"

"Feeding," I whisper. "It's happening all over again. Get inside. Now!"

I push Daryl ahead of me, and he leads the way back inside. As I close the door behind me, Alden asks, "What's going on?"

"Darry, get every weapon we got. Every knife, too," I order. "Aaron, Eric, all the non-perishables, and start loading 'em in your truck and Daryl's. Alden, Marc, you're on anything medicine. Carl, you're coming with me to the garage and we're getting any other shit we need to survive. We'll grab Sammy, Glenn, and Jesus, then we split up and get the others. We get them and get the hell outta Dodge."

The others take off, trusting me without a question. Alden pauses, catching my arm as I pass, asking, "Hey, what the hell's going on out there?"

"Al, you trust me, right?"

"Of course. But… Clary, what the hell's happening?"

"I woke up, and I thought it was over, but it was just beginning," I say. "The dead are walking, Alden. But it's not the end of the world. It's the new world. And we can make it together, but we can _only_ make it together. We stick together, and we survive this because _we_ are the walking dead. So are you with me, Point Break?"

"Until the end, Clary Dixon. Without question."

"This ain't the end," I call, starting towards the garage. "It's only the beginning. Welcome to the next world."


End file.
